


Ruined For Marriage

by Poppelganger



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, F/M, Girls with Guns, Italian Mafia, Organized Crime, Ten Years Later, Violence, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 08:53:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 44,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1422172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poppelganger/pseuds/Poppelganger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A pair of independent assassins get recruited to do hits for Don Vongola, and are inevitably introduced to the Varia squad.  One of them gets off to a bad start with Xanxus, which isn't completely unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Life was refreshingly uncomplicated for Soko.

Some might say that life as a mercenary was horribly complicated, full of political intrigue and staying on your toes and outwitting all of the other mercenaries who were anywhere near as good as you.  There were no mistakes; missed and wasted shots could cost you your life.  You had to be aware at all times, looking for all possible exits the moment you walked into any building in case that was the day that an old enemy decided to get even and set you up. 

These people, Soko decided, were simply not cut out to be mercenaries.  You could take or leave the politics, she knew from personal experience.  Nobody made you care about your targets or the motivations of your employers.  Don’t ask questions and don’t get answers.  She was aware, too, all the time, but she also knew how to stop and smell the roses, because she didn’t worry that every little old lady at the street corner secretly had a gun in their purse and was just waiting for her to get a little closer.

No, Soko didn’t worry about it, because she expected it, and regardless of whether or not they had a gun, she did. 

And as for skill, there was no question that Soko was one of the best in the business.  If you weren’t, you either faded into obscurity or died.  Interestingly enough, mercenaries tended to hope for the latter.  All hit men die anonymous deaths covered up by wealthy men, but dying at a comfortable old age because you didn’t kill well enough was an insult to the profession.  Even Soko fantasized about living well into her seventies, only for an old foe to break in and put a bullet between her eyes.  That was the way to go, she thought, having lived carefully enough to live that long but having made enough enemies that someone eventually comes knocking.

Toko, her partner, disagreed, but Toko was a little different anyway.  Toko, who had come up with their codename “Belladonna,” seemed on the surface to be the wrong kind of person to be a hit man.  She was soft-spoken, gentle, motherly, and above all, disliked bloodshed.  Soko knew better, though.  Toko was more complicated than that, which is why they were working together in the first place.  She’d always claimed that making enemies was her least favorite part of the job, but Soko couldn’t fathom why.

Enemies were good.  Enemies meant you did your job so well that somebody hated you.  So when they were approached by a sharp-dressing, fedora-wearing man who walked like an assassin and talked of assimilation into a family for protection, Soko was confused.

The proposal went something like this; The Vongola were at the top of the Underworld, so close to the light that the police tended to look the other way when they were involved, and only half out of fear.  They had a history of sporadic alliances, suddenly reaching out to another family or upstart group with promises of protection in exchange for absolute loyalty, and then going silent for a few years.  This stranger claimed to have come to them on behalf of the tenth generation boss who supposedly had noticed Belladonna’s work and wanted them to become part of the family.  To have the Vongola interested was flattering, though the fact that the Vongola hit man knew their identity already was worrisome.  Soko searched in her memory for somewhere she must have messed up and came up empty, which could only mean that she hadn’t made a mistake—he was simply better.

“Operating independently has its downsides,” he said smoothly looking quite relaxed as he leaned against the door, though Soko knew he was on his guard.  Toko knew, too; it was why she was keeping distance between them, sitting back on the couch with her feet stretched in front of her in case she needed to flip to coffee table.  Soko lounged next to her and tried to be discreet when she eyed him for weapons, though it was impossible to tell just by looking if someone was armed if the weapon was hidden.  She couldn’t imagine he’d walked into an assassin’s apartment unarmed.

“Should you get set up, or find yourself outnumbered, your options are limited,” he continued, “There’s no one to turn to if you’re in over your head.  You can’t afford to make any mistakes.”

“We have made no mistakes so far,” Soko said, earning a smirk.  She wasn't sure if he was smirking at her declaration or her manner of speaking; her Italian wasn't very good.  Toko was the better of the two when it came to that.

“As much as we like to pretend it isn’t so, we’re only human.  I’m not questioning your talent; I wouldn’t be here if that were up for debate.”

“If we become part of the Vongola,” Toko said quietly, and he turned his attention to her, “Then we will be dissolved, correct?” 

He paused before answering.  “Yes.  You will have to remove your name from listings, and will only take the jobs you’re provided with from the Tenth.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’re interested.”  Soko was surprised by her partner’s sudden refusal, but she continued, “However, I believe an alliance wouldn’t be out of the question.”

The hit man tilted his head curiously.  “Elaborate.”

“We retain our codename and partnership,” Toko said, “But we will remove the name from the listings, and instead, you will hire us.”

“Ah.”  The shadow of his fedora hid his eyes, though Soko thought they must have narrowed.  “A business woman, I see.  In that case, I will have to discuss your terms with the Tenth.”  Tilting his hat, he turned, opened the door, said, “We’ll be in touch,” and was gone.

Toko relaxed as soon as the door slid shut behind him, closing her eyes and letting out the breath she’d been holding.  “What was that about?” Soko asked, switching to Japanese, and her partner opened one eye to look at her.

“Did you want to join?”

“No.”

“Then what are you asking for?” 

Soko shrugged.  “You made a big deal out of our partnership.  You could have just said you’d rather Vongola hires us to do their dirty work.”

“It matters to me.  I wanted to make sure he was aware of that.”  Standing, Toko stretched her arms over her head.  “I’m getting tired.”  This she said in English, Toko's way of telling her that the matter was personal rather than business.

“Then go to bed.”

“I’m always tired,” she said, staring into Soko’s eyes purposefully.  “I think about quitting a lot.”

Soko frowned.  “We’ve already talked about this,” she said, “You can’t quit.  Lifetime employment.  You work till you die.”

“Don’t remind me,” Toko said, waving a hand passively and yawning.  “Wouldn’t that be interesting, though?  Working for Vongola?”

Soko rolled her eyes and stood from the couch, heading for her bedroom.  “Sounds like a blast.”

“Soko.” 

She stopped.  Toko was smiling.

“Do you ever think about it?  Quitting?”

She didn’t like this about Toko.  Toko on the job was fine, Toko around the apartment when they were just enjoying their downtime was fine.  But Toko when she started thinking and reminiscing and talking about quitting—what the hell did that even mean?—made her uncomfortable.  “No,” she said after a long pause.

“Never?”

“Never,” she snapped, and then softer, “I’m going to bed.”

Enemies, Soko thought, were good.  They kept her from becoming complacent, cozy in a life that was honestly pretty quiet when she wasn’t killing somebody or trying not to get killed.  Enemies were what put bread on the table.  Enemies were even what had led her to meet Toko.  They weren’t a bad thing.  Enemies were what made her a hit man through and through, from the moment she picked up a gun to the day she would eventually die.  But she had no regrets.  She and Toko had talked about it before, how she didn’t exactly have a lot of options in life.  So enemies were fine.  She could deal with enemies.

It was allies that made her uncomfortable.

*

The hit man from Vongola came back the next night, leaning in their doorway like he belonged there, and said with a great flourish, “Vongola Tenth accepts your proposal and would like to become acquainted with the great Belladonna in person.”  He gave the details for the next family meeting, and Soko wore her best poker face.  Did he really expect them to just walk into the headquarters of the most powerful mafia family alive?  If his boss had refused the offer and instead ordered them killed, they wouldn’t know until they were in the middle of the room and every gun was trained on them.  If he thought they were just going to agree to that, he wasn’t giving them enough credit.

“Tell him that Belladonna accepts his invitation.”

Soko whipped around to face Toko, who was looking at the hit man with something close to a smile.  Toko wouldn’t do something stupid like walk in without a plan, she reassured herself.  The hit man bowed his head in a farewell and left as quickly as he had come. 

“You’re not going to ask?”

Soko shrugged.  “I trust you.”

Her partner just smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cleaners are a certain type of assassin that specialize in getting rid of any incriminating evidence. I doubt the Varia actually does this, but for the sake of this fanfiction, we'll pretend that they do.

People who worked in the Underworld did business in black.

On the morning of their meeting with the Vongola, Soko stood beside Toko in the mirror carefully dusting her cheeks with blush, dressed in an identical cocktail dress as her partner.  Toko, who thought about everything too much, once told her that one dresses for a funeral when they dress for business.  Soko had never really understood the point--when she worked alone and meeting in person was absolutely necessary, she dressed casually, t-shirts and jeans rather than dresses and high heels.  But Toko had insisted after their partnership began that making a good impression on clients was essential to maintaining an image.

Soko took her advice because she defaulted to her on all matters of this nature.  She was better at handling people, and it wasn't just the language barrier that made Soko hesitant to speak up when they went anywhere.  Toko could read anyone and know when they weren't being honest.  It seemed strange, since Soko was the one from Japan where more went unspoken than not, yet it was Toko the American who was better at spotting to deception.  That isn't to say that Soko was trusting--she didn't trust anyone but Toko and looked for dishonesty everywhere, but Toko found it with pinpoint accuracy.

"Funeral clothes," Toko reminded her that morning, pausing to apply lipstick, "Everyone does it this way."

"As long as you do the talking," she said, "What's our plan?"

"We go meet our new employer."

Soko frowned.  "That's it?"

"That's it?" her partner parroted with a laugh, "There's no other family I'd rather take jobs from.  This is a great opportunity for us.  Do you know much about the Vongola?"

"Only as much as anyone else.  Why?"

"You'll see."

*

The hit man--who introduced himself as Reborn--was waiting outside with a car and a sly grin.  " _Ciaossu_ ," he greeted, kissing the top of Toko's hand.  "May I escort you ladies to the Vongola compound?"

" _Grazie, signore_.  You may," she said, climbing into the open passenger side door.  Reborn opened the door for the seat behind her for Soko and smiled, though she still hesitated before getting in.

"How long have you been in Italy?" he asked conversationally as he started the car and pulled onto the street.  

"Almost four years now."

Soko glanced out the window and watched the countryside pass by in a blur, mountains and vineries and traditional homesteads.  It reminded her of home in a way, of the green rolling hills and snow-capped mountains of Hokkaidou.  Seeing Reborn's eyes watching her in the rear-view mirror made her stiffen and she realized he was speaking to her.  "Pardon?" she asked.

"I asked where you're from," he repeated, "Quite a few of Vongola's current members are Japanese.  You might share a hometown with someone."

"Ah.  Sapporo.  On Hokkaidou.  Very far north."  

"Hm."  Reborn's eyes returned to the road and Soko exhaled.  "I don't think anyone in the family is from Hokkaidou.  That's interesting."

He began speaking to Toko again, and Soko's attention was drawn back to the trees they passed.  For all the years she'd been in Italy, she'd never taken the time to appreciate what was outside of the cities.  She knew the moment of introspection was only because she felt left out, unable to keep up with the conversation in the front seat, but she wondered if the feeling might linger and if she might be drawn back out to the countryside.  Then again, the familiarity made her reminisce on days gone by, and Soko prided herself on not being overly sentimental, so she turned to look ahead at the road and the Vongola compound coming up in the distance.

*

Don Vongola was Japanese and quite young, and Soko wasn't sure what to make of that.  When Reborn had mentioned that some of his men shared her home country, she hadn't realized that the boss was included.  He greeted them first in Italian, then in English and Japanese, smiling warmly the whole time.  The meeting room was spacious and everything from the long table to the upholstery on the chairs and the curtains looked like it cost a fortune.  As Toko had predicted, everyone present wore black suits, and Soko was suddenly glad that she'd listened to her partner and didn't look out of place.

The boss sat on the far end of the table closest to the window.  On his left were three men whom she presumed to be his guardians from the matching rings they wore.  The two closest to him were Italian, but the last was Japanese, and he gave both of them a grin as they approached the table.  On the other side were two more men, one blond and one with dark hair and scarring on one side of his face.  It was the latter of the two that caught her interest; he wore his jacket open over his shoulders and surveyed the room with little interest, paying no attention to neither her nor Toko.  Though she knew better than to jump to conclusions, Soko was no stranger to the various roles of organized crime groups, and the look in this man's eyes reminded her of a cleaner.  

The men on the left were guardians, and the ones on the right were not tied as directly to the family.  Soko understood that they were meant to sit on the right side of the table, but she let Toko take a seat first to put one more space between her and the scarred man.  

Don Vongola waited until everyone was seated to begin the meeting.  He started with politics, something about current government offices and civil unrest that Soko couldn't quite catch.  She'd tried to pay attention, but she missed half of the words and found herself examining the assembled Vongola instead.  The man across from her, the Japanese one, was tall with a small scar of his own on his chin.  Of everyone there, he looked the most familiar to her, reminding her of several yakuza  _kyoudai_  she'd met when she was young.  He looked safe, she decided, if she needed to ask someone for something.  The other two were Italian, one with dark, curled hair and the other with silver.  

Soko glanced to her own side and froze when she met the cleaner's eyes, realizing he'd been watching her stare at the others.  She averted her eyes to the table, and then to the boss when she heard him call her name.  "Do you have an opinion on the matter, Soko?" he asked with something like sympathy.  He probably noticed her eyes wandering, as well.  "Everyone here speaks Japanese, so we can switch to that if it would make you more comfortable."

Mortified by the silence in the room and all of the eyes on her, Soko quickly answered, "Thank you, Don Vongola.  My partner may speak for both of us."

He looked almost disappointed by her answer and she hoped she hadn't said something that would get them killed, but the meeting resumed and she inwardly sighed in relief.  

It ended quickly enough, and Don Vongola allowed Soko and Toko to stay if they wanted to get to know the others.  Toko caught Soko by the arm before she could get to her feet and communicated with only her eyes that they should do just that, and Soko forced a smile and nodded.  Her partner moved immediately towards the blond and the boss as well as the silver-haired guardian who refused to leave his side.  Though she'd intended to speak with the Japanese guardian, Soko was stopped by the only man remaining at the table, the one she'd noticed earlier.  "Were you able to understand anything?" he asked in fluent Japanese.  

She hesitated to answer.  "Only a little," she said quietly, eyeing her partner out of the corner of her eye.  

"Speak up next time.  Vongola's a pushover, and he's sympathetic to his people."

Soko was startled by the way he addressed his boss but simply nodded.  He looked like he wanted to say something more, but Don Vongola chose that moment to come over and join the conversation.  "What do you think so far?" he asked expectantly, switching to their native tongue, "Is there anything I can do to help you feel more at home?"

"No," she said, then quickly amended, "Thank you.  I'm fine."

Again, the boss seemed distressed by her answer.  "Well," he said, disappointment quickly replaced by a smile, "I see you've already met Xanxus.  He's in charge of the Varia assassination and cleaner squad, which will serve as backup should you run into trouble on a job."  Soko must have been unable to hide her shock because he continued, "Is there a problem?"

"I...no...."

Worry crossed Don Vongola's face but he hid it with further pleasantries and conversation.  He didn't push the matter any further.

*

Reborn brought them back to the apartment and told them that Don Vongola would contact them personally should their services be required.  Soko stood on the balcony and watched his car disappear over the rolling hills, thinking of the Italian countryside and her childhood.  "Could you help me get out of this?" she heard Toko call and came back inside to find her partner sitting on the edge of the bed.  "What did you think?"  Soko climbed onto the bed and moved Toko's hair aside to unzip the dress.  When she didn't say anything, Toko turned to her.  "I think the boss was worried about you."

She didn't answer.  When Toko reached to help her with her dress, Soko pushed her hands away and unzipped it on her own.  

"You've been tight-lipped today," her partner said, adopting the tone of a mother, "Did something happen at the meeting?"

"Nothing in particular."  

Toko sat on her knees and took Soko's hands into her own, squeezing reassuringly.  These sorts of things used to bother Soko, but she came to appreciate the attention.  She had never really known her own mother, anyway, and Toko was an acceptable surrogate, though they looked so different.

"The man with the scars," Soko murmured, "The one who sat to Don Vongola's right."

"The cleaner?  What about him?"

"In the yakuza _,_ " she said quietly, "Cleaners take care of targets, as well as whoever made the mistake to necessitate their involvement."  Toko was silent.  "That is the man who will kill us if we make a mistake."

"I don't think he will," Toko said, but Soko only shook her head.  "He won't," she insisted, "Because we won't make any mistakes."

A few years ago when they had just met, Soko was young and brash enough that she would have agreed.  But she thought of the meeting and of the hit man's warning, " _We are only human_."  Sooner or later, every life ended, but for people in their line of work, it was always sooner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think cleaners in the yakuza actually do that...but they do in manga sometimes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out to be a bit longer than usual. 
> 
> Also, canon characters will make regular appearances in the chapters now that everything's all set up. Hopefully things will get interesting.

Toko had insisted that they go out to celebrate being comfortably employed, and Soko hadn't argued, so they had left their shared apartment for downtown Sicily.  Though she was hesitant to say it, Soko enjoyed their outings together, as she and Toko knew each other well enough not to push boundaries and knew what sorts of conversational topics were and were not off limits.  If she weren't doing what she did for a living, Soko would have considered them friends.  Hit men didn't have friends.  They had associates who might just sell them out if the pay was good enough.  Admittedly, she and Toko had become close enough that the thought didn't cross her mind as frequently as it should.  She still kept her gun within arm's reach of where she slept, though.  That wasn't negotiable, and Toko did it, too.

"I love it here," Toko said as they walked down the street together, "Every breath you take is filled with the ocean.  You lived on the coast when you were little, right?  Was it nice?"

Soko closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the sea wind, and nodded.  "Yes, it was."

They ended up at a cafe sitting outside with two cups of sweetened tea, and Toko smiled at her and lifted her glass, saying, "To us!"  Soko quietly did the same, taking a tentative sip through her straw.  

"How long do you think until we have a job?"

"Who knows?"  Toko shrugged and gulped down a third of her glass.  "Why?  Anxious?"

"Something like that."  She stiffened when she noticed something over Toko's shoulder, a flash of gold, and her partner turned to look.  One of the men from their meeting with Vongola was there, the blond one, and Soko eyed him warily as he approached.  He was dressed more casually now, a green, fur-lined jacket and baggy pants, and Soko saw just the hint of a tattoo peeking out at his neck.  He wasn't alone--two men, both in black, followed him.

" _Ciao_ ," he called with a wave and a smile, coming to stand next to the table without sitting down.  "Fancy seeing the two of you here.   _Come sta?"_

 _"Molto bene, grazie_ ," Toko answered for both of them.  "Yes, it is funny that we should run into each other,  _Don Chiavarone_." _  
_

Soko's eyes widened.  Don?  He was a boss as well?  He had a similar air to him as Don Vongola, kind and gentle, though Soko still regarded him cautiously.

"You wouldn't mind if I joined you, would you?" Don Chiavarone said.

" _Mi dispiace,"_ Toko said, "But I prefer not to mix business and pleasure."  Subordinates called their bosses pushovers and outsiders turned them down; Soko thought she would never understand mafia etiquette.

Don Chiavarone looked almost hurt, but managed a smile.  "My apologies," he said, and then winked, "Perhaps another time then."

And Toko, again astounding Soko with her unpredictable responses, smiled back and said, "Yes.  Another time."  When Soko looked at her partner, she saw something odd in her eyes that she hadn't seen before, something like what she'd seen in her mother's eyes when she spoke of her father.  It was not love, but maybe it was longing.  It was definitely regret.

*

The wait for a job was brief.  Don Vongola personally called Toko's cell phone and requested they meet with him for the details.  This time, they wore plain clothes, still in the colors of mourning, but vests and cargo pants and gloves, plenty of places to keep weapons and ammo, and tied up their hair.  The guardians weren't present this time; it was only Don Vongola and the cleaner who waited for them.  Unlike last time, Don Vongola was solemn and did not greet them with smiles.  He went straight to business, informing them of an unfortunate situation with a rival family that the Vongola had only barely tolerated in the past.  A recent incident that resulted in civilian casualties was the last straw, and Don Vongola said that the head of the family needed to be put down.

The cleaner didn't say a word, leaning back in his chair listening and looking almost bored, and Soko occasionally felt his eyes stray to her.  "The Bencivenni head is opening a hotel," he continued, "And tonight, he and several associates are staying at the finished property to discuss business.  The associates need to go, as well.  If his men or his guardians interfere, do what you need to do, but do not involve any other parties.  No civilians.  Do you understand?"

"Yes," Soko answered this time, if only because this was familiar to her.  Kill orders issued in Japanese struck something deeply-ingrained in her from her youth.

At this point, the cleaner sat up, unfolding a large square of paper on the table.  "This is a blueprint of the building," he said, "Main exits are circled in blue, emergency in red.  Don Bencivenni is holding his meeting in a suite on the twelfth floor."  

Toko leaned forward and silently studied the blueprint for a minute before she said, "There are five viable routes.  I could enter through the secondary entrance in the back, and Soko could take the stairs leading to the emergency exit."

"Good," Don Vongola said, then gently, "I apologize for the short notice, but this can't wait.  Typically, the Varia handles these sorts of things, but the majority have their hands full in Spain at the moment."

"It's not a problem," Soko reassured him.  

He called, "Be careful," as they left, and she felt the cleaner's eyes on her back, daring her to screw up on her first job under the Vongola and promising death if she did.

*

Reborn dropped them off a block away after sunset and Toko had kissed her gun like she always did for good luck.  "The better it likes you, the better it shoots," she'd say with a laugh, and Soko had always thought it was a childish thing to do.  As with many of Toko's other eccentricities, Soko had never understood her affection for her weapons.  To her, a gun was a gun, and just the tools of their trade the same way the writer's tool was the pen.  Of course one could have a preference, but she would never go so far as to have any kind of emotional connection to it.  

They split up as soon as the building was in sight, Toko going left to go around the back and Soko going right to find the emergency exit stairs.  She had no preference to working beside Toko or not; they both left themselves, the people that wore the monikers Soko and Toko, behind whenever they flicked off the safety.  Neither of them spoke during jobs, because there was no room or reason for words.  You got in, you killed, and you got out.  Words could wait until they were both home, both people again instead of hired guns.

It was one flight of stairs to the doors that went inside.  Soko flicked off the safety, carefully turned the handle, peeked through the opening, and ducked inside, helping the door shut silently behind her.  When she worked, she didn't think about anything but the job.  Not Toko, not her homeland and all the things she missed, not even the cleaner and his cruel eyes, just the job, just being careful and unseen, just aim, fire, escape.  It was less thinking and more instinct, kill-or-be-killed, and it was delightfully uncomplicated, unlike all of the mafia business she was sure she'd be getting acquainted with soon.

Coming in through the emergency exit, she found herself in the stairwell.  She started making her way up, counting flights as she went to keep herself focused.  There were no alarms and no one stationed at the doors.  She was beginning to worry that it was going too smoothly.  Upon reaching the twelfth floor, she peeked through the glass window in the door and then slipped into the hallway.

There were lights on further down in the hall, the only ones on in the whole building, and her heart was beating quickly in anticipation.  She was sure now that Don Bencivenni had expected them, considering the ease with which they'd gotten in and located the targets.  It wasn't often that a lure was played so close, though, which could only mean that the man wasn't actually in the lit room or that they had a hell of a trap waiting to be sprung in there.  Maybe both.  The only way to know for sure was to check.

Soko pressed her back to the wall as she made her way closer, peering around the corner very carefully.  The door was open and only a single man was seated there, checking his watch impatiently.  She weighed her options; if his men were in the room with him, shooting him from the hall would be her best bet, as it would give her a head start to escape, but such a simple ploy was so predictable that she couldn't imagine that was really the case.  On the other hand, if they were elsewhere, why hadn't she run into them yet?  If they'd seen her, surely someone would have killed her by now.  She pulled back to hide herself around the corner again when she heard his phone ring.

His speech was gruff and clipped, but she managed to catch most of what he said.  "Well?" he answered, sounding anxious, and then, "Is that right?  Where?"  A pause.  "No.  Figure out who sent her first.  Spread out on the whole fourth floor, I don't want any surprises."  

Her heart stopped.  There was no question in her mind what he was talking about.  When he hung up, she knew she had to make a choice.  She could kill him now; she was guaranteed a shot and a quick escape, since most of his forces were probably with Toko and scavenging the wing she'd entered in, meaning only his guardians were left in the room with him.  On the other hand, if she did that, the guardians would know right away that Toko hadn't acted alone, and would probably get rid of her.  But if Soko came to her rescue, there was a chance that they would fail the mission.

Either way, she didn't have much time.  Soko took a deep breath.  She leaned around the corner to look at the man again.  And then she chose.

*

Toko was being interrogated in one of the security rooms on the fourth floor.  By the time Soko got there, they'd just started.  She was blindfolded and her hands were tied behind the chair, and they were putting all of her weapons on the table.  There were four men in the room; one closest to her, one closer to the table, and two by the door.  Soko breathed in, aimed at the one on the left side of the door, and fired.  

One.

Killing was easy.  When she'd first started, she'd kept track, but after a few months, it seemed pointless.  She only counted when she was on a job.  The one on the right side of the doorway was just turning to look when she shot him between the eyes.

Two.

The one closest to the table was unarmed, probably the lead interrogator, and he was still scrambling for one of Toko's guns on the table.

Three.

Which left only the one closest to Toko, who had been knocked onto his back when Soko's partner swung her bound arms and her fist had collided with the side of his head.  Soko didn't give him a chance to get back up.

Four.  All clear.

Soko untied her partner's hands and ripped off the blindfold, and the blond woman took her weapons from the table.  "Most of his men are on the tenth floor," she said, "His daughter's there."  Soko met her eyes, already understanding, and nodded.  "Why'd you come?"

"Hm?"

"You came for me," Toko said, "I bet you were already up on the twelfth floor."

"Does it matter?"

Her partner smiled just a little.  "No."

They parted ways again, going up staircases on opposite ends.  Soko was met with resistance the moment she set foot on the tenth floor hallway and ducked back into the stairwell as a bullet ricocheted off the wall by her head.  Another broke the window on the door and she pressed herself against the wall again, listening as footsteps came running closer.  At least five, she thought, aiming through the broken window when she saw someone get close enough.  One, she started to count again, but now she was distracted.  Don Bencivenni's daughter complicated things, after all.  The door to the stairwell opened but Soko was already halfway down to the next floor and craned her neck to fire at the man peering over the edge; two.  She was a wildcard; some families had all blood relatives in the loop, and some kept everyone but the Don out of mafia affairs completely.  It didn't matter to Soko personally, three, but Don Vongola had made it clear that they weren't to involve civilians, four, and five.

Five turned out to be a poor estimate as at least four more followed, and Soko retreated to the ninth floor hallway to give herself more room to work with.  It must be a difficult choice to make, Soko thought, whether or not to tell your loved ones that you were involved with organized crime.  She herself had never had to worry about it; she was the daughter of the _oyabun's_ mistress, and even if they hadn't wanted to tell her, it would have been difficult to keep it a secret.  Soko had never really bothered to think too hard about the family dynamics that she wasn't directly involved in; her father had always spoiled her with expensive gifts when he wasn't teaching her how to use a gun, and loyalty had been instilled in her at a young age, so she didn't want to imagine that somewhere, he had a wife and son who might have hated him for having a child with another woman, and might have hated her for being that child.

She'd forgotten to count, but when she brought herself out of her reminiscing, it was silent.  All clear.

Soko went back up to the battered tenth floor stairwell door and saw a teenage girl huddled against the back wall of the pool.  The door was locked, so she went to find one of the guards and patted him down for a key card.  Just as she found it, she heard the door open behind her and turned to see the girl running down the hallway.  " _Basta_ ," she yelled, aiming at the back of the girl's head, and the girl did as she was told, freezing in the middle of the hallway.  Soko approached, slowly at first, but the girl was wearing a bathing suit and didn't have any weapons in either hand.  The way she was shaking told Soko that she a civilian.  "Stay right there," Soko told her.  The girl inhaled shakily and started to cry.  

"Are you going to kill me?" she whimpered.  She was fair-skinned with long, dark hair and not much shorter than Soko.  

The hit woman didn't answer, lost in thought, until she heard the girl's cries turn to sobs.  "Quiet," Soko ordered, and the girl did her best to comply, "Do you know what your father does for a living?"

"No," she said miserably, "My parents are divorced.  I only see  _babbo_ twice a month."  

There were gunshots somewhere above them and the girl whimpered again.  Two, three, four, five, Soko counted, just how many people were in that room?  And then, it was quiet again.  She waited in silence for a minute before the door at the far end of the hallway opened and Toko came towards them, pausing when she saw the girl and Soko's gun at the back of her head.  Toko nodded to her and turned to leave, and Soko holstered her gun and walked around the girl. 

"Wait," she gasped, collapsing to her knees, "Is my dad okay?  Who are you people?  What do you want?"

Toko didn't stop, opening the door to the stairwell, but Soko paused in the doorway.  She didn't look at the girl's face; she didn't want to remember it later.  "Your father is dead," she said honestly.  The girl's breathing became quick and panicked.  "I am Belladonna," she continued, "If you want revenge in a few years, ask around.  Someone will know how to find me."  And then she left her there, sobbing on the floor.

Enemies, Soko thought, were good.  The best, really.  She hoped that Don Bencivenni's daughter would come for her one day.

*

They hadn't gone two steps out the door when a car pulled up to the hotel driveway.  The window rolled down and Soko's breath caught in her throat when her eyes met the cleaner's red ones.  "Quick work," he commented.

"Don Vongola stationed someone to watch," Toko realized.

"Don't be offended," he said, "We don't know you from a hole in the wall.  Can't just let a couple freelancers do their first job without any supervision."  Soko found it difficult to do as he asked, but didn't say anything.  Toko mercifully took the passenger seat, and Soko got in behind her.  "I already got the initial report from Reborn," he went on, "One of you really knows how to shoot.  Between the eyes, just about every time."

"That would be Soko," Toko said, sounding almost proud, "She doesn't like to chance incapacitating shots."

He glanced in the rear view mirror and Soko kept her eyes on the trees they were passing.  "Do you not talk to foreigners?" he asked darkly.

"No, I...."  Her Italian had been just fine a moment ago with Don Bencivenni's daughter, but now she was having a hard time remembering how to conjugate verbs.  "I do not have anything to say."

"Ever?"  The tension in the car had tripled since she and her partner had gotten in.  What was she supposed to say to that?  No, in fact, I don't, so please stop asking?  To her surprise, he backed off and changed the subject.  "You don't like incapacitating shots?"

"No."

"Why?"

She hesitated to answer.  "They are a waste of ammunition.  One shoots to kill a target, not to slow it down."

He was silent for a moment, eyes fixed on the road, and Soko wasn't sure if she had said the right thing or not.  Then, he asked, "You been doing this a while?"

"Yes."

"How long?"

She noticed then that Toko hadn't said a word.  Looking forward, she saw her partner with a motherly smile on her face.  "I first took contracts when I was sixteen," she answered, "But I worked before then, too."

There was a short pause before he said, "Seems like you have plenty to say."

Soko looked at the cleaner--Xanxus, if she recalled correctly--and wondered if there may be more to him than she thought upon a first glance.

In the distance, the lights of the Vongola compound welcomed them home.


	4. Chapter 4

Don Vongola was so pleased that he sent flowers, a bouquet of full-bloomed roses, and Toko went out to buy a vase for them.  "It's sweet of him," she'd said, but Soko had simply shrugged and watched her fill the vase with water.  

"It's polite," she corrected, "Full-bloomed roses mean 'thank you.'"

Toko had smiled at that.  "Oh?  I didn't realize you spoke the language of flowers."

"My mother taught me.  The  _oyabun_ always sent her gardenia."

Her partner smiled peaceably and took a seat at the table, admiring the roses.  "And what does that mean?"

Soko leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.  "It means, 'I love you in secret.'"

Toko was silent for a moment, thinking, and then she got out of her seat.  "I'm going out tonight," she announced.

"With Don Chiavarone?"

There was a short, awkward pause before the blond laughed.  "Where did that come from?"

"I saw how you looked at him."  Soko shrugged.  "It doesn't matter to me.  I'm not your mother."

Toko opened her mouth to say something, but ended up changing her mind, smiling a bit to herself and patting Soko on the shoulder before she took her purse, put on her shoes, and left.  Soko stayed at the table a moment longer, still staring at the roses.  She had never had Toko's skill at adjusting quickly to change.  Their sudden alliance with the Vongola had initially put her on edge because of the delicate nature of such an arrangement.  Even though she wasn't as immediately worried that Don Vongola would send them into a trap--not that she didn't think about it, it just wasn't her primary concern anymore--she was still uncomfortable with the whole thing. 

Getting out might do her some good, she decided, and stood to get her own purse.

*

Hoping to distract herself and work on her pitiful Italian, Soko went down a market street and examined the stands full of freshly-caught fish and herbs and cheeses.  Vendors called to her, " _Signorina_ , come and try something," and she politely accepted samples and even bought a few fruits.  She was still getting used to Sicily; personal space was much different than in her hometown, and people stood so close to talk, but when she stood back and watched people interact, she enjoyed the atmosphere.

Carrying a bag of her choices, Soko came out of the market and back onto the main street and froze when she saw Xanxus across the way.  She was mentally debating turning around and pretending she hadn't seen him, but he made eye contact and began making his way over, so she stayed where she was.  The cleaner was alone again; she had yet to meet any of his men or even see them and wondered if he preferred working alone.  "I didn't know you went anywhere by yourself," he commented, making her painfully aware of her partner's absence.  She simply nodded.  "There's a bar in the area called Brindisi," he said, "You should join me."

"Excuse me," she said, "But I prefer not to mix business and pleasure."

Unlike Don Chiavarone, he was undeterred, and he narrowed his eyes.  "That wasn't a suggestion."

And so, Soko found herself following him down the street towards their destination, wondering how a person said "no" and had their answer interpreted as such.  Brindisi wasn't far, only a block or so away, and it wasn't just a hole in the wall.  The large windows facing the street were darkened, and when they stepped inside, Soko saw many of the patrons were dressed in funeral-wear, dark suits and dresses, and she recognized one of Vongola's guardians, the Japanese one, at the bar.  He waved when they passed, and she returned it timidly as she found a seat beside Xanxus.  The bartender came by in a moment, leaving water for them both, and Xanxus said something in Italian too quickly for her to catch that made the man behind the counter nod and start mixing a drink.  A mafia bar, she thought, and wondered how many of the men in the room were from Vongola.

"How many languages do you know?" Soko asked curiously.

"Seven," he said, "It's the minimum for joining Varia."

She took a sip of water.  "Why choose Japanese?"

He smirked, the look in his eyes becoming distant as though he were remembering something.  "Because I found out the next in line to become Don was Japanese.  I wanted to hunt him down and kill him, and before that, I wanted to make sure he understood why I was doing it."  Soko said nothing.  "I used to hate him," he continued, "I did for a long time.  Sometimes, I still do."  He chuckled to himself.  "But, family is family."  

"That's admirable," she said, "Not everyone can serve someone they once hated."

The bartender returned and deposited a drink in front of him, and he lingered for a moment until Soko shook her head.  "Admirable," Xanxus sneered, "That's one word for it, I guess."  

Soko thought they both ran out of things to say, because for a while, Xanxus drank in silence, and she surveyed the other people in the bar, likely all mafia, talking quietly among themselves.  "Why did you invite me here?" she finally asked as he finished off the glass and set it down on the counter with what seemed like more force than necessary.

"Do I need a reason?"

"Well, no."  She just couldn't figure him out.  Don Vongola, as limited as her exposure to him had been, she thought she had just about figured out.  Reborn, too, she thought she was starting to figure out.  But the cleaner?  Maybe it was because he was the only one she actively avoided, but she didn't know what made him tick any better than the first time he glared at her.  

"If you have a problem with me," he said, and the way he leaned in was interpreted as almost predatory, "Then just say it, and spare us both a future of pointless meetings where Vongola tries to get us to be friends."

She swallowed roughly.  "I don't have a problem with you."  He didn't move or look any less skeptical.  "Really, I don't.  It's just...."  She bit her lip.  "Isn't this normal?  Do you expect me to want to get to know you?  Every time I look at you, all I can think is,  _'there is the man who will end me.'_  Can you blame me for--?"

"Stop."  He wasn't glaring.  He looked almost amused.  "What was the last thing you said?"

"When I look at you," I said uneasily, "I just think about...how you're going to kill me one day."

"Unless you have a gun to Vongola's head, I don't see that happening."

Soko eyed him suspiciously.  "You're a cleaner."

"And?"

"And...your job is to take care of mistakes."  

It clicked for both of them at the same time.  "Yeah, that is my job," he said, "That doesn't include killing you just because you screw up."  Soko didn't think he had any reason to lie about it.  "Is that how they do things in the east?"

"In my old family," she said.  Xanxus looked like he wanted to laugh at her, but the relief was too great for Soko to care.  So  _this_ is what Toko was talking about, she realized, the kindness that is the Vongola family.  She wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't heard it with her own ears.

Reborn chose that moment to clear his throat on the other side of Xanxus, and Soko was startled, not having noticed him approach.  " _Ciaossu_ ," he greeted, tipping his hat, and Xanxus grunted in response, looking none too happy about him being there.

"Business?" he asked, and Reborn nodded, but his dark eyes were fixed on Soko.

"Yes, but not for you."  

*

When they arrived at the compound, Toko was already there, exchanging pleasantries with Don Vongola, who rose to greet them.  "I'm sorry to call you out on such a nice day," he said, and Soko thought that he always seemed to be apologizing to them, "But your next job is going to take some preparation."

"Politics," Toko said with a passive wave and a laugh.  Soko knew she only pretended not to be interested.

"Yes.  Do you know the name Giueseppe Marocco?"  

When Soko shook her head, Toko answered instead.  "He was running for some office earlier this year, wasn't he?"

"He was supported by the Bencivenni, and is a little distraught by the sudden loss of financial backing."  Soko remembered Don Bencivenni's teenage daughter briefly, the petite girl who'd stood shaking in the hallway as she held her at gunpoint.  "A couple of hit men came yesterday to send a message," he continued, "We sustained no casualties, but I won't tolerate a repeat of that incident.  However, considering Marocco's standing in the political world, this is going to have to be handled a little more delicately, ideally without any evidence of our direct involvement."

"So it requires a woman's touch," Toko mused, and Soko understood immediately.

 _A woman's touch,_ meaning one of them would be posing as a prostitute.

"I don't like this sort of thing," Don Vongola said, looking to Soko, "But we would prefer if this looked more like a third party job, and Toko has told me that you two are...familiar with this sort of setup."

Soko felt Xanxus' gaze on her at that and only nodded stiffly.

"If this could be done in the next few days, that would be ideal."

"Not a problem," Toko said, "We'll research Marocco's usual haunts, Soko will be the lookout, and I'll do the deed."

"No," Soko interrupted, "I will perform the kill.  Toko will keep watch."

There was an uneasy silence.  Toko sighed deeply but didn't disagree, and Don Vongola waited a moment to say gently, "It's up to you.  Let me know when you finalize your plans."

The meeting concluded and Xanxus looked at Soko like he wanted to say something, but never did, so she silently followed Toko out the door.  "Why do you always do that?" Toko muttered under her breath as they walked down the hall.  Soko kept her eyes ahead.  "Would you look at me?"

"Because you're wrong for this job," she snapped, and they stopped walking.  "I have never said it before, but it's the truth.  You're not the kind of person who should be doing this, Toko, and one day, you're going to want to leave and I want you to be able to."

"Just because I wasn't born into it like you doesn't mean I can't be efficient."

"I'm not talking about efficiency.  You're too kind, you know.  You still have this purity that I've never known."  Soko shook her head.  "I don't want you to lose it."

"I'm older than you," Toko said gently, "It should be me who does those things."

"Age doesn't matter in our line of work," Soko murmured, noticing Xanxus watching them from the open doorway of the meeting room.

He looked angry, and she wasn't sure why.


	5. Chapter 5

Marocco had more covered-up scandals to his name than political contributions, and it was almost a wonder that the Bencivenni kept supporting such a high-risk ally.  He was also a frequent customer at brothels, which made Soko's job even easier.  Her partner intercepted his call to make a reservation for the following weekend, and all that was left was to wait.  

"He's staying on the ninth floor in a presidential suite," Toko said, drawing a circle on the hotel floor plan on their dining room table, "If you can get him onto the balcony, I can make the hit from an adjacent roof.  I'll wait for the signal."

Their signal was always the same; when Soko turned to her left and brushed her hands over her shoulder like she was pushing down the strap of her bra, that was Toko's opportunity to take the shot.  

This was far from the first time that Soko and her partner had ever worked a job that involved her posing as a prostitute, but neither of them enjoyed it.  Toko claimed that she disliked them because they had to split up.  Regular jobs were different, she'd said, because they separated only to expedite the mission and took the most efficient routes possible.  But jobs like this were huge risks all by themselves.  Soko had to go in unarmed, because if she was stopped on her way out and found with a weapon, it would be obvious that she had been part of the setup, so the kill was entirely up to Toko.  

What Soko disliked the most was how much of the mission was left up to luck.  Toko's marksmanship was essential to kill the target, but tricking them into letting their guard down and getting them into position, and then escaping the scene of the crime as quickly as possible, had nothing to do with skill or preparation.  Once, a maid had come in just as Toko was making the hit, and the poor woman had screamed so loud that Soko was sure the entire floor heard her.  She'd had to find a way out the window that time, because the target's allies were alerted immediately.  If she needed to engage someone in close-quarters combat, she could, but not a mafioso's entire entourage, or a whole host of hired thugs, and the ninth floor was a bit of a stretch for a window escape.  When the odds were against her and she didn't even have a gun, all of Soko's skill couldn't help her, and her fate was dictated by chance alone.

"For dinner tonight," Toko said suddenly, abandoning the floor plan, "I was thinking the seafood place a block from here."  This was another part of their ritual; Soko's partner would treat them both to dinner shortly before these kinds of jobs, "For luck," she claimed, though her eyes shone with worry.  As much as Soko had tried to define their partnership as strictly business, it would be a bold-faced lie to say that neither of them considered the other an ally and confidant, and someone they wouldn't mind spending their last night with.  "And," she added lightly, "Don Chiavarone will be joining us."  

Soko looked at her from across the table with apprehension and Toko frowned.  "Oh," she murmured, "I'm sorry, Soko, I didn't think you would mind.  I should have asked you, anyway.  I can tell him not to come--!"

"Don't bother."  She stood from the table.  "I won't go."  She kept her voice carefully neutral.  Toko stood to meet her before she left the room.

"Soko," she said gently, "What you said to me the other day, about being wrong for this job...."

"Was the truth," Soko finished, and tried to step around her.  "Don't be offended."

"I'm not anymore."  Toko put a hand on her shoulder.  "You've been acting odd lately."

"Telling you the truth is odd?" 

"No, but your behavior is."  She looked intently into her eyes.  "I can't figure it out.  Do you dislike that I've become friends with Don Chiavarone?  Or is there something else?"

"What you do is your business.  And I really don't have a problem with him."  Soko pushed her hand away gently. 

"I think you're having trouble adjusting," her partner said, "It helps to make friends, Soko.  The Vongola are all but throwing themselves at us to make us comfortable.  Isn't there anyone you feel that you can talk to?"  

"I'd just rather not."

Toko sighed.  "I won't tell you what to do," she said softly, and moved away from Soko towards the door where she bent down to get her shoes on, and Soko thought that she looked and sounded tired, like a parent who had just dealt with an unruly child.  Toko left, and she spent next hour cleaning her gun and reminiscing on the person she used to be.

*

On Saturday night, Soko wore black lingerie with a long coat over it.  Toko served as her escort, and they spent the car ride in complete silence until they reached the hotel that Marocco was staying at, where he was waiting for her at the door.  

Giueseppe Marocco was a tall man, not particularly muscular nor overweight with the sort of build she expected for politicians.  His hair was gray and his eyes were surrounded by creases, many years of false smiles apparent on his face.  He greeted her with one a touch more genuine, almost gently.  " _Benvenuta,_ " he greeted and she smiled meekly and pretended she didn't quite understand.  It was always better to pretend she didn't speak the language; it saved them both from awkward conversation and got her in and out more quickly.

Marocco reacted in exactly the way she'd hoped, still smiling and wrapping arm around her waist as he led her into the hotel.  Soko glanced over her shoulder once at Toko, who nodded at her reassuringly before pulling away.

They went to his room without a word to one another and Soko took a careful look around the presidential suite.  Wooden floors with a long rug in the middle of the room where the furniture rested.  The kitchen was to her right and she saw a four poster bed through the open doorway on her left.  What really mattered, though, was the large, glass door straight ahead that led out onto a sizable balcony.  It had only been a few minutes since Toko had left her off, though; she needed to give her at least five to allow her time to get into position.

Slowly, she shed her coat and let it drop around her feet on the floor.  Marocco came forward, not touching yet, just looking over all of the skin that the lingerie exposed.  Soko didn't like to think much when she did these sorts of jobs; she always thought about the geisha girls in the red light districts of her home.  She began serving her father's organization when she was young and carried out her first contract at sixteen, and she could remember once returning from a mission to report the success and finding a girl no older than her bent between the legs of her boss.  She had seen the geisha girls before, but never in action, and the look on her face when she saw Soko, the shame and the desperation, never left her.  Their faces, painted in pale imitations of true geisha, always looking away from her in embarrassment, appeared in her sleep sometimes, and she wondered if she could have helped them, if there was any help for any of them.

She didn't think so, not then, and not now.  There were some things that one did not simply leave, not by physically walking away, and the yakuza lifestyle was one of them.

Soko was drawn back out of her thoughts when he ran one of his hands down her shoulder and commented on her tattoos, the ones that stretched from her shoulders to her hips, front and back, and she wondered if five minutes had gone by yet.  It had to be close, she thought, and turned to face Marocco with a shy smile, walking backwards towards the balcony door and beckoning him with one crooked finger.  He chuckled and followed her as she reached behind her to open the door, slipping out into the cool night air, arching her back against the railing.  She giggled when he leaned down to kiss her neck and reached for one of her legs to wrap around his waist.  Soko inwardly frowned, having hoped she could detach herself long enough to get him into a better position, but she'd just have to be patient.

There was a gunshot, and the left side of Marocco's head was shredded, and all Soko saw was red.  Her heart stopped when she heard many footsteps, no doubt Marocco's associates or bodyguards, approaching the room, and looked down at the blood spattered over her body and the dead man who slumped at her feet.  She took a deep breath and started screaming.

The entire hotel seemed to come to life, room lights above and below the suite coming on and people moving about in adjacent rooms.  The door was thrown open and several men who couldn't be anything but mafia rushed in.  One held her at gunpoint and her screams died down into sobs as she held her hands up to show she had no weapons.  The others swarmed the suite, searching for murder weapons, and two more still came out to the balcony and looked over Marocco.  Though she was crying crocodile tears, Soko's fear was genuine.  The shot had been so close, just a few inches off and it could've been her dead on the ground.  And she hadn't given the signal; was Toko trying to get her killed?

"It was a sniper," she heard one of the men examining Marocco say, "You think she was a setup?"

The other one gave her a quick once-over.  "You know something about this,  _puttana_?" he growled and she just continued to cry.

"I didn't do it," she whimpered softly in Japanese, and they looked to each other in confusion.  None of them seemed to speak the language.

"It couldn't have been a coincidence," the one with the gun trained on her said, but one of the men in the room came out to the balcony.

"Let her go," he said, "Look at her, she's terrified.  What's killing a prostitute going to do besides cause us more trouble?  We need to get out and look for the shooter."  The man in front of her didn't look convinced, but did as he was told and gestured with a jerk of his head for her to go.  Soko hurriedly slipped her coat on and left the room, hiccuping and wiping at her eyes all the way down the hall.  When the elevator doors closed, she leaned back against the wall, closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  That was too close.

The police had already been called by the time she was leaving the lobby, and even though the receptionist gasped upon seeing her with blood and viscera splattered on her face, she was only stopped long enough to give the police a brief rundown of what had happened in mangled Italian.  

She recognized the car that pulled up for her to be Reborn's rather than Toko's but climbed into the passenger seat without hesitating, eager to get out of there as soon as possible.  She asked for her gun right away and he complied, handing it to her.  The hit man then took the chance to look at the brain matter on her cheek and the grime covering the inside of her coat and asked with a smirk, "Rough night?"

She slammed the car door shut.

*

Soko was not one to speak to those above her without courtesy, even if they did frustrate her, but she was absolutely seething by the time they reached the Vongola meeting room.  Reborn kindly opened the door for her and the eyes of Toko and Don Vongola turned to her and immediately widened.  "Soko," her partner gasped, getting to her feet to meet her halfway as she approached the table, "My God, are you okay?"

"What the hell was that?" she spat in Japanese, not thinking clearly enough to express herself in any other language, "Were you trying to get me killed?  Not only did I not give the signal, but he was standing far too close for that to have been a safe shot.  Marocco had hired help, and they were quick to react.  I didn't think I was going to get out alive."

"She wasn't the shooter."

Soko froze; she hadn't heard Xanxus come in behind her.  He looked her over almost appraisingly in her filthy coat.  "It was _you_?" she hissed, any fear she ever had for him forgotten, "Why?"

"Because I wanted to do the hit."

"You almost got me killed."

"You would've been fine," he said, "One of our teams entered the building not long after you.  How do you think you got down the hall and out of the building so easily?"  Slowly, Don Vongola edged out of his seat and towards the door, motioning for Toko to follow, either trusting them not to break anything or fully expecting it.  

"You should've waited," Soko said.

"You should've let your partner play the part of the whore," he shot back, and she glared.

"I don't see what the problem is.  This is my job."

"You're a hit man, not a prostitute.  How far would you have gone if I hadn't made the shot when I did?"

"As far as the job required."  They were circling the table now.  "I don't see how it's any of your business, regardless."

"I'm your relief team, trash.  Anything to do with your work is my business."

She had her gun unholstered with the safety off and trained on his face in record time and was impressed when he mirrored her half a second later.  "What did you just call me?" she demanded, voice low.  Anyone else would have taken the hint, but Xanxus only added fuel to the fire.

"I called you 'trash,' which is what you are if you forget your station."

She couldn't believe he would say something like that while staring down a professional assassin's gun and had to remind herself that shooting him wouldn't do anything but put her and Toko in hot water with the Vongola.  "Clearly, nothing I say is going to change your mind," she muttered, lowering her arms and eventually putting the safety back on and holstering her gun again.  "It wouldn't have mattered if you were Don Vongola and told me to do it differently; I do these missions.  That's just how it goes for us."

Slowly, he followed her actions and they both relaxed.  "I thought you had more self-respect than that," he sneered, "Don't the Japanese have some kind of thing about keeping yourself pure for marriage?"

"I was born into a yakuza family," she said without looking at him, "I've been ruined for marriage since birth."

*

Toko drove them home.  Soko went straight for the bathroom, throwing the coat and the lingerie onto the tile floor and stepping into the shower as she turned the water on, not bothering to wait for it to get warm.  Toko came in after her with a plastic bag, gathering all of the clothes with Giueseppe Marocco's blood on them to dispose of.  "You know," she said, "I think he likes you."

Soko would have laughed if she wasn't in such a bad mood.  "I don't know why you would say that."

"He wanted to protect your virtue," her partner said, "It's kind of sweet."

"Stuipd," Soko muttered, scrubbing vigorously at every inch of herself with the soap, "There's nothing left to protect."

Toko tied a knot in the top of the bag and sighed.  

"When did you leave?"

"Not long after you went in," she said, "I had just driven over to the next building over and he was there, waiting.  He told me I could go, he was going to make the kill.  I tried to change his mind, but he was determined."

"I almost died."

"Ah," Toko said, smiling, "And now you're starting to understand the intricacies of romance in the underworld."  

Soko stopped scrubbing, listening to Toko move around in the bathroom.  "I don't believe you," she said.

Toko only laughed.  "You don't have to."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the language of flowers: Different floriography dictionaries will give you different meanings for the same flowers, though there are some meanings that are the same across the board, so I have tried to be consistent by at least using only one dictionary for all of my meanings. Japanese floriography is called hanakotoba and does differ slightly from western floriography. 
> 
> I also don't recommend sending flowers as a passive-aggressive way to say something mean to somebody. Only jerks like Xanxus do that.

Soko slept in the morning following the hit on Giueseppe Marocco.  Toko had offered to treat her to lunch since they hadn't gone for dinner before the job, but she'd declined.  There was a chance she could run into Xanxus in town--it had already happened once--and she wasn't interested in doing that.  She felt ridiculous, hiding from someone, but their last encounter had left her so angry and bitter and maybe even a little hurt that she thought she needed some time to cool off before she faced him again.

She got up, showered, and came out into the living room in a t-shirt and shorts, freezing when she saw Don Chiavarone there.  She knew Toko like the man, but she wasn't ready for him to start invading their shared living space.

"What is he doing here?" she asked before she could stop herself.  As soon as she realized the words had left her mouth, her eyes widened and she stammered an apology in Italian.  "No.  I did not mean...I did not expect to see you here, Don Chiavarone."

"It's okay," he said, smiling lightly.  "We were just talking."

"Business?"

"Well, a bit."

The allied family's boss floundered for a suitable excuse and Toko stepped in.  "A little business," she said, "But also personal matters."

Soko remained in the hallway.  "Should I leave you two alone, then?"

"No, you're fine," he said, "This is your home.  You don't need to accommodate me."  She reluctantly came into the living room but passed them both at the table for the kitchen, unable to bring herself to sit with them.  "We were just talking about your time as Belladonna," Don Chiavarone called, "How did you choose that name?"

"Ah," Soko said, searching the cupboards for a packet of tea.  "It was Toko's idea."

"You inspired it," her partner insisted.

She scoffed.  "Yes, through needless sentiment."

"She knows a lot about plants," she heard Toko say, and could the smile in her voice.  "Belladonna is poisonous, of course, but it was also used in eye drops for women to dilate their pupils and appear more desirable, which is where the Italian  _bella donna_ comes from."

"I was actually thinking about the belladonna lily at the time," Soko said, "The most important quality for an assassin is silence.  It is the only flower I know of with that meaning."

"I only recently realized that she knows floriography," her partner added.

"Really?" Don Chiavarone asked, "That's interesting."

"And useless."  Soko put a kettle of water on the stove and turned back to look at them both, looking as though they were conspiring over the table with their heads so close and their smiles so similar as they watched her.  Don Chiavarone was a good fit for Toko, she though.  He seemed kind and gentle, not very well suited for the underworld, either.  She didn't doubt there was more to him than that.  One did not retain the position of a don with smiles alone.

"Not at all.  I know plenty of people who send flowers rather than letters."

Soko thought about just days earlier when Don Vongola sent them roses.  It did seem that flowers would be a more discreet way of thanking someone for a hit than sending a card.  "I suppose there are some," she said.

Don Chiavarone was about to say something else, but there was a soft chime and he checked his phone.  "I'll have to remember that someone here speaks the language of flowers," he said with a smile as he stood from the table.

"Work?" Toko asked, getting to her feet as well, and he nodded.

"Yes.   _Mi dispiace_ ," he said.  Soko watched her partner follow him to the door and exchange a few more words before she waved and closed it behind him.   _  
_

"You're talkative today," Toko mused, coming back to sit at the table.

"It's refreshing to be in the company of tactful, sensible people."  She prepared the tea, pulling a couple of small cups out of the cupboard for both of them.  "Did he say anything interesting, or did you just gaze into each other's eyes and talk about good memories the entire time?"

"I don't know how you do it," her partner said, sitting up straight when Soko came to the table with the tea.  "Every time you talk about romance, you manage to make it sound silly.  And we did talk about other things.  Political assassination is relatively uncommon as of late due to all of the major players securing protection from one group or another, and nobody wants to step on anyone else's toes."

"Except Don Vongola?"

"Don Vongola is too powerful to worry," Toko said, "Besides, popular opinion in the underworld is that Marocco needed to go anyway, and the job wasn't even pinned on the Vongola."

"So we did well."

"Don't we always?"

Soko sipped her tea.  "So it's going to be like this, then?  Belladonna merged with the Vongola?"

"Does it bother you?"

"No, it's just sinking in now.  I don't really mind."  She shrugged.  "The name was silly, anyway."

Toko looked at her sympathetically.  "No.  It was a beautiful name."  It was quiet for a moment as they both drank their tea before Soko broke the silence.  

"I don't think I ever told you this," she said softly, "But the first time I posed as a prostitute was when I was sixteen."  She paused a moment and closed her eyes to collect her thoughts.  "I was taught by a girl who called herself Tsuki.  It's terrible; that name is so popular with geisha girls."  She took a long drink.  "She was the same age as me, the  _oyabun's_ favorite."

"She was only sixteen?" Toko asked quietly.

"Yes.  She taught me everything I know now.  I think I was the only girl her age she ever spoke to.  I used to dream that we would run away together, leaving our lives and the yakuza behind.  I don't know why I had those dreams; I wasn't really unhappy.  Where would I have gone, anyway, and what would I have done?  Tsuki and I knew no other lives; she sells her body, and I take lives.  That is all we know how to do."

Her partner drank the last of her tea and set the empty cup to the side.  "Why are you telling me this now?"

"I don't know," Soko admitted, "I think I want to be understood."

"I'm not the one you need to tell this to, then."

"I know."  She sighed and took both cups back to the kitchen.  "I know that."

*

The sun was beginning to set.  Toko was seated at the table cleaning her gun and Soko was on the couch flipping through one of her partner's magazines, and they both startled to attention, hands reflexively on their weapons, when there was a knock on the door.  Toko draped a washcloth over the parts on the table and went to answer it and Soko returned her attention to her reading material.

She saw Toko's eyes widen slightly out of the corner of her eyes when she opened the door as she greeted, "Good evening,  _signore_."

"Is your partner home?"  There was no mistaking the voice for anyone but Xanxus, and Soko was glad to be out of the line of sight of the doorway, holding the magazine just a little tighter.  She glanced over the top of the pages at Toko, eyes pleading.

"Oh," Toko said, "Yes, but she isn't feeling well.  I can take a message for her."

There was a pause.  Soko wondered if he was going to barge in.  After a moment, there was some rustling as something traded hands.  "Give this to her for me."

"Of course."  He must have left then, because without another word, Toko stepped back inside and shut the door with her elbow.  She carried a fresh bouquet in her arms that she set down on the table and wandered into the kitchen to find shears to trim the ends and a vase to fit it into.  "I'm sure you heard who that was," she said and Soko got off the couch and approached the flowers very slowly, as if fearing they'd lash out at her.

She peeled back the plastic to get a good look at the bundled flowers--carnations.  She held them in her hands, staring, mind reeling.

"And just the other day, you were saying you didn't believe me about underworld romance," Toko teased, setting a vase on the table.  "I've been learning the language of flowers, too, since you mentioned it.  Carnations are a popular apology flower, aren't they?  They also mean 'sweet and lovely.'  This is quite a romantic way to make up."

Soko didn't say a word.

"Carnations are also Mother's Day flowers, right?  I know they're popular in Japan.  Oh, but Japanese flower language has some differences.  I think some of the meanings aren't the same."

"Get rid of them."

"Hm?"

Soko dropped them on the table and went back to the couch, picking up the magazine.  "Throw them out," she said firmly.

"What?"  Toko glanced at her.  "But why?"

"They're white and yellow.  They're ways to express disdain or disappointment."  Her hands started to shake.  "He's calling me  _trash_."

Toko stared down at the flowers, then back to Soko who hid her face behind the pages of the magazine, and eventually sighed and dumped them into the garbage.


	7. Chapter 7

It took almost a week of peace and quiet, no targets or reconnaissance, for Soko to finally start feeling ridiculous.  She hadn't left the apartment since her near-altercation with Xanxus and the blow dealt to her pride was finally starting to bother her more than her irrational desire to avoid him at all costs.  Hit men did not hide from each other; that's not how it worked.  If there was a problem, they worked it out or one of them died.  Simplicity, Soko reminded herself, that was her favorite part of her job.

It still took her an extra hour after waking up to convince herself that she should get ready to face the world, and another to work up the guts to call up Don Vongola and ask if he'd seen the cleaner lately.

"Xanxus?" he asked, sounding surprised, an _"Are you sure about this?"_ somewhere in his voice.

"Yes," she clarified impatiently.

"I'm not sure.  He hasn't been needed for any missions lately, so he could be anywhere.  If I had to guess, he's either at a bar or back at the Varia headquarters."

Soko didn't need to ask which bar, but she did ask for the address to the Varia headquarters, which Don Vongola reluctantly gave her, and she reflected on Xanxus' comment that the boss was a pushover.  It was the oddest thing; there were some situations in which he was as deadly and demanding as a boss needed to be, but among his own men, he could be a complete doormat at times.  She thanked him, hung up, put her gun in her purse, and headed out the door.

Toko had left earlier in the day on what had to be a date with Don Chiavarone, and thankfully he had driven, leaving the car with Soko.  In all of their time as partners, Toko had expressed interest in several individuals but had never pursued any.  Soko's initial apathy towards her partner's infatuation with the allied family's boss was slowly becoming worry, not that she would ever admit it.  It was not worry for Toko, but worry for herself, and what she would do if Toko did manage to leave her life as a hit man behind.

But then, what would Toko do?  Become a mafia woman?  The don's wife?  Soko couldn't see her fitting that role any better than she fit her current one, but if she could choose a path for herself as odd as a hit man, then she could no doubt retire into something that was twice as dangerous.  And that would leave the other half of Belladonna alone.  It wasn't that she'd never been alone before; Soko had worked for several years by herself before meeting Toko.  But something about doing it again, now that she knew what it was like to have someone she could rely on--an ally, a confidant, someone who was more of a mother to her than anyone related by blood--that was what frightened her.

She pushed the thought from her mind.  She had more important things to take care of first, most importantly this mess with a man who had the nerve to insult her in the language of flowers.  Soko was well-versed in apologies; she was Japanese, she knew about twenty ways to apologize, and over half of those were when you didn't really mean it.  And despite the image she was trying to uphold of a cold and distant hit man, she would be willing to meet Xanxus halfway but only if he made the effort, as well.  He would have to apologize first.

Soko hadn't known Xanxus for long, but she knew him well enough by now to know that apologies were certainly not his strong suit.

She decided to check the mafia bar, Brindisi, first, and if he wasn't there, she'd move on to the address Don Vongola had given her.  Finding a place to park downtown, she located the place again and walked in, glancing around at the people there.

Xanxus was seated at the bar and she steeled herself, walking slowly and watching for any sudden movements.  She knew there was something a little twisted about approaching an apology like an assassination, but they were both hit men.  There wasn't another way to do it.

Ill will is a potent thing; the other patrons seemed to notice that Soko was not interested in a drink and soon vacated the bar, leaving only her and the cleaner as she took the now open seat next to him.  The bartender didn't bother coming over to take her order.

"Haven't seen you in a while," Xanxus said, taking a long gulp as he glanced to the side at her.  Soko only frowned in response.  He put the glass down and sneered at her, switching to her native tongue as he asked, "So you got the flowers?"

"Of course I did," she replied coolly, "But I decided I would be the adult between the two of us and try to make amends."

"That right?"  Xanxus pushed his drink aside and turned to face Soko, who met his glare head-on.  The tension in the room was becoming unbearable and those closest to the door started to leave.

"We got off to a bad start," she forged on despite her hunch that it would be hopeless, "You were under the impression that I enjoy the social aspects of my job, and I was under the impression that you were being an unreasonable asshole.  One of us was wrong.  I think we should move forward."  

"I could care less if you like it, trash," Xanxus growled, and Soko's fingers twitched but she kept her hands out of her purse.  "Nobody's making you do shit like that.  If you choose to, that's a problem."

"I'm not sure if you noticed, but Belladonna is a two person team.  One of us has to do it, and it's not going to be my partner."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I'm protecting her."

This was apparently not the answer he was expecting as he paused a moment.  "From what?  The job she chose?"

Soko was close to giving a biting reply when the sound of gunshots and shattering glass tore her attention away from Xanxus and to the windows at the front.  The other patrons scattered, ducking under tables and into the corners of the room.  Soko hopped the bar counter and crouched underneath, pulling her gun from her purse, and she heard Xanxus behind her readying his own weapon.

"How many'd you count?" he muttered.

"At least two at each window."  Shots fired.  The wood of the counter above them splintered.  "I'm guessing there are quite a few more if they decided to attack a mafia bar."

"Rival family, probably."  Xanxus looked to Soko and they came to a silent agreement, waiting a count before rising above their cover and taking aim, trading fire with the targets for only a couple seconds before crouching down again.  "You're a good shot."

"So are you."

With a room full of allies, it took only a minute longer to regain control of the bar, and the remaining targets fled.  Police arrived soon after, and Vongola's influence caused them to take a look around, ask no questions, and leave as quickly as they'd come.  It was a nice change of pace from how things usually went when Soko had been ambushed in the past; fighting out of a building while outnumbered could be a miserable, nerve-wracking process, and while it never lasted more than half an hour, it always felt like forever.

Xanxus hopped back over the bar first and began to leave, and Soko followed him out the door.  "We don't really get along," she said when they were outside, and he frowned.

"Don't feel special.  I don't get along with anyone, least of all the people I work with."

She didn't know why, but she laughed.  Xanxus didn't, of course.

"What, you think we're friends now or something?"

"No.  But you know, back there, you could've shot me.  You could've blamed it on the ambush."

He raised a brow.  "Okay?"

He wasn't going to admit it, but Soko knew that was the closest thing to an apology she was going to get.

*

When Soko noticed Xanxus' car in her rear view mirror on her way home, she started to panic and wondered what he wanted but told herself to remain calm and cordial.  She had a tendency to lose her temper with him, and the last thing she needed was to lose it in the apartment.  Toko had worked hard to find them a place on the nicer end of town and the neighbors were convinced that they were two normal young women rather than guns for hire, and she hoped to keep it that way.

He followed her inside without a word and seated himself on the couch.  Soko didn't really want to sit with him and didn't know what else to do, so she started boiling some water for tea.  It was incredibly awkward, as neither of them spoke a word and Soko felt his eyes on her the entire time as she moved throughout the kitchen, opening and shutting drawers without actually taking anything out to distract herself.  The kettle was just starting to whistle when he suddenly demanded to know why she became a hit man in the first place.

"Why?" she asked, and he didn't answer.  "Because I was born into the yakuza.  I was the  _oyabun's_ daughter."  She poured two cups and brought him one, and before she could retreat back into the kitchen, he looked pointedly at her and then to the open cushion next to him in a slightly threatening manner.  

"That doesn't mean anything," he said as she sat down, "Children of bosses are spoiled brats.  You could've done anything.  Why become a hit man?"

"Because he died."  Soko counted the floating stalks in her tea.  She could still feel Xanxus looking at her.  "And then I wasn't the  _oyabun's_ daughter anymore, but just the daughter of one of the mistresses."

"And then what?" he pressed.

"And then the new  _oyabun_ gave me two choices, and I chose the gun over the brothel.  But I was a young girl in the lower rungs of the organization; I couldn't escape it all the time.  I was valuable when the officers needed a distraction; a woman's touch, my partner would say."

Xanxus didn't say anything for a while.  Finally, he took a long sip of the tea and frowned at it, and Soko tried not to be offended.  "Let me guess, your partner's a virgin?"  Her affirmation was unnecessary, but she nodded all the same.  "Wouldn't have guessed," he went on, "Between the two of you, you act like it more."

"What does a virgin act like?" she asked sarcastically.  He didn't answer.  When he finished his tea, he wordlessly handed the cup to her.  Soko took them both to the sink and stood there for a moment, staring down into the metal basin and her warped reflection.  "You know," she murmured, "When I was sixteen, I...."  

Xanxus waited.  

"Never mind."

He got up and walked towards the door then and Soko sighed in relief until she heard his footsteps coming into the kitchen.  She turned to find him standing within arm's reach--uncomfortably close--with a scowl.  "I'm going," he said, and then, "Are you going to stop avoiding me?"

She knew her face was flushed in embarrassment.  When he smirked, it only made her angry.  "I wasn't avoiding you."

"Really?"  His smirk widened.  "So if I said I expected to see you at Brindisi again tomorrow, you'd actually be there?"

"Yes."  Soko didn't realize what he had actually said until he was turning to leave again and she suddenly became confused.  "Wait, are you...?"

"If you're not there," he said, opening the door, "I'm going to come find you."

And then he was gone.

Soko stood there for a while longer, staring at the front door in disbelief.  Was that an invitation?  They'd been angry with each other for the past week, then watched each other's backs in a gun fight and were suddenly on good enough terms that he was arranging to meet with her.  She thought about what Toko had said about intricate relationships but still didn't think this could possibly be normal.   _Xanxus_ couldn't possibly be normal.

But she thought, and couldn't help smiling to herself, that she didn't mind too much.


	8. Chapter 8

Soko hadn't been awake for more than a few minutes the next morning when she heard her partner in the next room, speaking in hushed tones.  She got out of bed and drifted out into the living room, finding Toko seated at the couch, still in her pajamas with the phone to her ear.  “We’ll be there soon,” she said and hung up, turning to face Soko.  “Did I wake you?”

“No.  Who was that?”

“Don Vongola.  There’s an odd situation that’s come up.”  She didn't say more on it, insisting that they both get dressed quickly and head out for a meeting, so Soko waited as patiently as she could.

Don Vongola, Reborn and Xanxus were in the conference room when they arrived.  Soko and Toko sat to the right of Don Vongola again, and he wasted no time on pleasantries, immediately moving to the meeting.  “Someone has requested Belladonna for a job.”

“But we pulled ourselves from underworld listings,” Soko said uneasily.

Her partner pursed her lips thoughtfully.  “Then it must be an old client, or someone who knows us by word of mouth.”

Soko frowned at that.  It had to be political or mafia-related; their only other clientele were jealous husbands and wives who suspected their significant others of cheating.  They had no reason to hire assassins twice, nor did they ever tell anyone that they’d done so in the first place.  There had been no shortage of those kinds of simple jobs before, but the sacrifice that came with the protection of the Vongola meant that they wouldn’t be taking them ever again.

“The one who requested the hit is a Mr. Leon Albini,” Reborn said, sliding a photograph of a young man across the table.  “Nineteen years old, born into the Orsini famiglia.  The Vongola have never had problems with them before.  His request stated that he would discuss the target and the details only in person.”

“What we’re saying,” Don Vongola cut in, sounding stressed, “Is that whether or not you take this job is your decision.  It’s not my business to restrict your clientele if they knew about you prior to your alliance with us.”

Soko studied his face.  “But you don’t like something about this.”

He grimaced.  “Truthfully, I intended to send backup, or at the very least a lookout, on all of your jobs.  Please don’t think of it as mistrust or a lack of confidence; I simply take care of my people.  But with non-mafia affairs, I won’t be able to send you assistance.  If something goes wrong, you’ll be on your own.”

Soko could have scoffed, but he looked high-strung enough as it was at the moment.  “I think,” she said, glancing to her partner, “That we’ll be fine.  It’ll be just like old times.”

“Yes,” Toko agreed, “Thank you for your concern, Don Vongola, but we’re willing to accept this job.”

He nodded tensely and Reborn passed an index card down the table with an address and time printed neatly at the top.  “This one’s all yours,” the hit man said, and Soko nodded appreciatively, taking the note card.  She noticed then, as she and Toko were leaving, that Xanxus had again not said a word, much like their very first meeting, and she hoped all the progress they’d made hadn't been undone.  If anything, he didn't look angry so much as tense, just as Don Vongola did.  She had to hide her smile; it was nice to know he was concerned, and a little hilarious.  She’d have to give him a hard time about it later just to see what scalding remark he’d come up with to hide it.

It would be just her luck if this was the job that got her killed.

*

The meeting place that Albini had given was a recently-abandoned industrial complex near the coast, white, angular towers sticking out through the trees.  It wasn't necessarily uncommon for clients to refuse discussing the details of a request unless they got to speak with the gun they’d hired personally, though it happened much more frequently with younger clients or those who weren't as familiar with the underworld.  Soko had heard others in her field grumble about it at least once, considering it a waste of their time when the client could have simply sent the information, though she had thought they were simply being careful.  She figured Albini had probably never hired a hit man before.

Toko parked the car off to the side of the winding road that led through the forest and up to the industrial complex.  Neither of them considered meeting like this to be part of the job, and Soko’s partner remained pleasant and conversational as she took the gun from the glove compartment and began loading it.  “It’s sweet that the Don was worried,” she said, and Soko noticed that she spoke in Japanese, a sign that she was not truly comfortable. 

She eyed the thick foliage surrounding them warily.  “It seemed he would have preferred for us not to take this job, but his only reason was that he wouldn’t be able to help us.”

“Maybe he had a bad feeling.”

Soko could tell from her partner’s tone that she was feeling it, too, then; the feeling that they were staring down their deaths.  The problem was that she knew her partner was every bit as cautious as she was, and they always felt this way even when there was no danger.  “Let’s make an effort to come back alive,” Toko muttered, beginning to walk down the trail.

Soko nodded and watched her back become smaller as she walked away.  This was the how they maintained the illusion of being a one-man team; Toko handled these situations alone, and Soko could only wait anxiously for her to come back.  Climbing back into the passenger seat, Soko checked her phone for the time.  If her partner was gone for more than five minutes, she would know something was wrong.

A call from an unknown number lit up the screen and she promptly ignored it, but got a text message a moment later from the same number reading, “Answer your damn phone.  It’s Xanxus.”

She couldn't help but smile at that, having a hard time imagining Xanxus texting.  She wasn't sure how old he was, but she knew there were at least a few years between them.  “Working right now,” she replied, “How did you get this number?”

Eventually, a reply came.  “Asked the Tenth for your contact information.  Bullshit you’re working, you wouldn't have time to answer if you were.”

Losing patience, she quickly texted, “What do you want?” and again waited for a response.  Before one came, however, the five minute mark passed and Soko had to take a minute to calm herself enough to think clearly before getting out of the car, her own gun readied, and made her way to the industrial complex under the cover of dense forestation.

Soko was worried; despite putting the precaution in place, she’d never had to act on it before.  Meetings where clients told them who they had to kill and where to find them never took more than a minute.  She could only think that they’d been set up somehow.  Don Vongola had checked out Albini and he’d come up as clean as one could in the mafia, which meant that it had to be personal, a grudge against Belladonna.  But she couldn't recall his name, or the Orsini, from any of her previous jobs.

She found the industrial complex and remained hidden among the trees as she examined the building for entrances.  The loading docks were in front of her, and a small set of stairs led up to an unguarded door beside it.  She moved around the perimeter silently, counting the entrances and memorizing their placement, but didn’t see a single person outside.  If no one was sent out to intercept her, then they were expecting her to come in of her own volition.  She wondered if they knew there were two people in Belladonna.

She couldn't waste any more time; if Toko was still alive, she was probably being interrogated.  To the side of the complex was a pair of faded green doors.  The dirt around it hadn't been recently disturbed, though that didn't mean it wasn't being guarded from the inside.  Soko took a deep breath, approached the doors and stood off to the side, gently tugging on the handle of the one closest one and pushing it open.  There was no immediate reaction.  She slipped inside, helping the door shut silently behind her, but froze at the touch of cold steel on the right side of her head.

“Hands up,” she heard someone order in Italian, and swallowed, slowly doing as she was told.  It was dark inside; light fixtures had been stripped from the building long ago, leaving them with nothing but the sunlight coming in through the broken windows high above them.  The room was long, and she saw two armed guards at every door.  It seemed she would've made the wrong choice no matter where she’d entered. 

The other guard took her gun and she was shoved, the first man’s weapon trained on her back, further into the room, instructed to walk slowly keeping her hands in the air.  In the middle of the room stood Leon Albini, matching the photo Reborn had shown her, his men on all sides of him.  She was brought close enough to him to see his frown clearly even in the poor lighting.

“So there are two of you,” he mused, “You’re hard to find anymore, you know.  Your name used to be near the top of the listings, and then suddenly, it just disappeared.  It didn't make sense.  You’re obviously not retired.” 

“Why couldn't I be retired?” Soko asked, but he didn't answer. 

Instead, he turned away towards the darkness and asked, “This one has an accent.  Is it her?”

Soko’s heart stopped and she was overcome with bitter regret as another person came from the open doorway to a side room, their features becoming clearer as they approached.  This one was a young woman, a girl, really, and she came to stand at Albini’s side, examining Soko’s face.  “Yes, that’s the voice I heard,” she said, “I never saw her face.  She held a gun to the back of my head and let me go without even looking at me.  But she gave me her name.”    

“Don Bencivenni’s daughter,” Soko muttered, and bit back a yelp when the girl came forward to kick her in the stomach with enough force to make her double over.

“My name is Rita,” she hissed, shoving Soko to the ground and producing a gun of her own aimed between her eyes.  “And I’m not the Don’s daughter anymore.”

Soko fought with herself about thinking a dangerous thought, comparing the girl to her or feeling any sympathy, and it was more difficult than she wanted to admit.  “What does the Orsini have to do with this?” she asked quietly, glancing behind Rita.  There were six men standing by Albini, and she’d counted two at each of the eight entrances.  Rather than carefully surveying the situation unnoticed or at least from behind cover, she was sprawled out on the floor in the middle of the room, and her partner was nowhere in sight.  The odds weren't looking good. 

Rita smiled thinly.  “Leon is my boyfriend.  We've been quiet about it, though, and that’s paid off.  If anyone knew about a connection between the Bencivenni and the Orsini, you might not have come.”

“If you’re going to kill me,” Soko said, meeting the girl’s eyes and smiling a bit at the way she started to shake, “Then do it.  This is the way I've dreamed of dying.”

“No.  I’m not going to kill you yet.”  Rita backed off a bit, standing up straight, and Soko had just relaxed when the gun went off.  She couldn't stop the cry that tore from her throat and her hands flew to her leg, fingers pressing against her torn pant leg, slick with blood.  “I want answers first,” she continued, and looked to Albini, who nodded and gestured to his men.  Soko winced when she was dragged to her feet and herded into another room across the way from the one Rita had left.  She couldn't see much when she looked over to it.  But she thought she might have seen Toko’s outline, motionless in a chair, for just a moment before the doors to her own room shut and left her in darkness.


	9. Chapter 9

“Who hired you to kill my father?”

Rita lead the interrogation herself with only two men in the room at the door.  Soko might have once considered her overconfident, despite having been searched with her hands tied behind her back to the chair, because she had still put herself in a room with a trained assassin, but there was still only so much she could do.  The men at the door had been instructed not to get involved, but she was certain that they’d protect Albini’s girlfriend if it came down to it. 

The air was humid and stale in the small room; sweat ran down her neck and she flexed her fingers behind her back.  Rita was dressed in a heart print t-shirt and shorts and looked no different from any other girl Soko saw walking down the streets of Sicily.  She hadn’t had any involvement in organized crime before her father’s death, or so they’d been lead to believe.  Soko wondered if she had it in her to torture someone for information, though.

She found herself blindfolded when she didn’t answer the first question, taking away what little vision she had of the room.  She heard Rita walk around her, and then swore when she felt a hand dig into the bullet wound, gritting her teeth.  “I’m still waiting,” Rita reminded her, voice close to her ear, and she took a shuddering breath, crying out when the hand twisted.  “You’re not very careful,” she went on, sounding further away, “Do you always leave someone alive?  If you’d killed me when you had the chance, you wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Wasn’t the first time,” Soko grunted.  The hand withdrew from her wound and she gasped for breath.

“Oh?  When else have you let someone live?”

“When I met my partner.”  Rita didn’t say anything and Soko knew she’d surprised her.  “If you want information, you’re going to have to do better than this.  I grew up in a family where mistakes got the ends of your fingers cut off.”

“That must be a lie,” Rita interrupted, “Because your hands look fine, and if letting me live wasn’t a mistake, I don’t know what is.”

Admittedly, if she were still serving her father’s organization, she probably would have been punished for sparing Toko four years ago, and again for letting Rita go.  She felt a cold blade pressed against her chest through her shirt, not hard enough to draw blood, but shivered when the air hit her skin as her clothes were cut away. 

“You have a lot of tattoos,” Rita murmured, and she felt the girl’s hand press against her shoulder.  Soko knew every single line that ran from her shoulders to her hips, the waves and flames, the geisha, the festival fox mask and all of the flowers.  She’d chosen them all herself on her sixteenth birthday, a rite of passage to mark her as a yakuza woman for the rest of her life.  “They’re beautiful.  I like the big lily the best.”  The blade pressed into the middle of her back, right where the flower she mentioned was. 

Soko smiled a bit to herself, bitterly, and waited.  She felt the blade break the skin, trailing up her back and down again, tracing the same line, and then it suddenly went deeper and she shrieked.  She wondered if she would bleed out before Rita got any of the answers she wanted.  Suddenly, the blade retreated, and she felt Rita move away. 

“You’ll never guess what I just found,” she said, and Soko heard the smile in the girl’s voice, “You left your phone in your pocket.”

She froze.  She couldn’t believe she’d been so careless.  Xanxus’ texts right before the five minutes ran up had distracted her so badly that she’d forgotten to leave it behind.  There wasn’t any incriminating evidence in her messages or call history, but she had Don Vongola and several of his people saved in her contacts, and Rita would likely put two and two together.

“Look, you even have a new message.”  There was a pause and she read over the words, sounding confused.  “‘I’m tired of waiting, trash.’”

As if on cue, gunfire sounded on the other side of the door and a panicked stampede of footsteps and shouting.  Soko heard the door to the room open and the men guarding it rush out, and Rita moved to stand behind her, pressing the blade to her throat.  “You had backup,” she muttered, and if she wasn’t being held captive, Soko would’ve argued that she was fairly certain she didn’t.

The fight outside lasted only a minute longer before the doors were flung open again.  “Trash,” Soko heard, and she almost laughed, never so happy to hear someone address her in such a callous way.

“Step back,” Rita ordered, pressing the blade tightly to the flesh of Soko’s throat, “Put your weapons down.”  There was a yelp and Rita was suddenly no longer next to her.  She heard the knife clutter to the floor before feeling the ropes binding her arms loosen and the blindfold was roughly tugged off of her eyes.  Squinting, she saw that Xanxus wasn’t alone; there were four others, three close to him and another standing to the side pinning Rita to the floor with a knife of his own held to her throat.  There was one stuck halfway through her hand, likely what had caused her to drop hers.  Anyone who could throw a knife with enough force to do that could only be a part of the Varia assassination squad.

“Boss,” the one above Rita said, grinning widely, “Can I finish her off?”

“Wait,” Soko called, shakily getting to her feet, and Xanxus looked to her for an explanation.  “This is my fault,” she said softly, “I let her go before.”  Understanding, Xanxus handed her a gun—hers, she realized with an appreciative smile—and stepped back.  The Varia assassin looked disappointed but moved away as well, and Soko stood over Rita, flicking off the safety and taking careful aim.

The girl looked up at her, tears rolling down her cheeks and her eyes wide in fear, suddenly appearing her age.  “You made a mistake,” Soko told her softly, “You shouldn’t have wasted time asking me questions.  You should’ve just killed me when you had the chance.”

“So now we’ve both made mistakes.”

Soko nodded, murmured, “Yes,” and pulled the trigger.

*

Toko suffered nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises, as Rita had been so fixated on Soko that she hadn’t bothered to do anything but tie her up in the next room.  Don Chiavarone apparently owned a hospital downtown, and Xanxus took her personally, draping his coat over her bleeding body.  He told her—ordered her—over and over again not to lose consciousness, and she did her best to stay awake, her back burning and her head spinning.

She was rushed into the emergency room on arrival, and the next few hours blurred together, all red and white, machines beeping, sharp pain before the drugs kicked in.  Soko remembered looking up at Toko’s worried face.  She might have seen Xanxus once, but was sure it was only her imagination. 

The next time she was completely lucid was the following afternoon.  Toko was slumped over in her chair, shoulders rising and falling with every breath, and Soko smiled.  “Hey,” she called hoarsely, “Toko.  Wake up.”  She reached over to touch her arm and her partner jerked awake.

“Yu—!” her partner blurted, and stopped herself, red in embarrassment before she corrected, “Soko.  You’re okay.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, “That mess was my fault.”

“It’s fine.”  Toko leaned forward and took Soko’s hands into her own.  “We had no way of knowing.  Don Bencivenni’s daughter was a civilian; we were ordered not to kill her, remember?”

“Rita.”

“Huh?”

Soko looked out the window at the blue, cloudless sky.  “Her name was Rita.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

“How long until I can go home?”

“Not long,” Toko assured her, “They said your leg should be fine, too.”  She paused, a smile slowly working its way onto her face as she noticed something.  “I’ll be right back.”  Soko was about to ask her where she was going, but when her gaze followed her to the door, she saw Xanxus standing there.  After her partner was gone, he took her seat.

“I thought Don Vongola said—!”

“The Tenth isn’t supposed to involve himself in non-Vongola hits,” he cut her off, “But I am the ultimate authority on my squad’s actions.”

“So you chose to act independently.”  Soko almost laughed but held it in.  “That kind of thing can get you in trouble, can’t it?”

“Please,” he sneered, “He was a worried mess after you two walked out.  I received commendation for my decision, especially since it was necessary.”

“What would have happened if it wasn’t?” Soko asked curiously, “You would have stormed in, only to find we weren’t there anymore.”

“Your partner told us about your five minute rule.” 

That made her pause.  “When?”

“You haven’t noticed how she’s all over the Chiavarone boss?”

“How much has she told him?”

Xanxus’s brow rose.  “Why does it matter?  Unless you have some sensitive information that your allies aren’t supposed to know?  And I’m still waiting for a ‘thank you,’ ungrateful trash.”

“That’s not what I’m….”  Soko rolled her eyes.  “Thank you.” 

“Like you mean it.”

“Are you kidding me?”  His eyes narrowed.  She looked down at her hands and murmured, in Japanese, “Thank you.”

“The Tenth is pretty torn up about this, since it stemmed from his orders” he said, “So he’s paying for a vacation for you and your partner to a hot spring resort in Hokkaido next week.”

Soko smiled.  “That’s very generous of him.”

“I’ll be going, as well.”

“What for?  You didn’t get shot in the leg or stabbed in the back.”

“Neither did your partner,” he said, “But I led the relief team.  And more importantly, we were supposed to meet at Brindisi today.”

Soko didn’t say anything, heat slowly rising to her face.  A meeting at a bar so they could fully overcome their differences and get to know each other was something she could handle, but a hot spring was far too intimate.  They were skipping at least five steps, unless this was some other angle of mafia relationships that Toko had neglected to tell her about.

Xanxus noticed when her cheeks turned red and smirked.  “What are you blushing about?  I saw you naked yesterday, trash.”

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered.  She hadn’t been thinking about it when she’d been full of adrenaline and wondering if she would even make it to the hospital.

Apparently, he had nothing more to say, because he stood from his seat and headed to the door with a warning for her “not to avoid him again,” leaving Soko confused and thinking of her upcoming vacation in equal parts anticipation and dread.


	10. Chapter 10

Soko was discharged by the end of the week and spent most of the weekend with Toko hovering near her despite her protests.  She'd been injured on jobs before, but never badly enough to necessitate a hospital stay, and was thankful that their connection with the Chiavarone had gotten her in and out without too many questions.  That said, she drew the line when Don Chiavarone once again showed up at their doorstep and excused herself for some fresh air.  She'd come to accept that his presence would likely be a constant as long as he and Toko were involved, and didn't dislike him, but she was always reminded of just how different she and her partner were when she saw them together.

She wouldn't call it jealousy.  Longing, perhaps, for things she'd never had or known about.  Toko seemed to understand and reluctantly let her go, but insisted she keep her phone on.  

Soko didn't really know where she was going when she got into the car.  She just drove for a while, rolling the window down on the country roads to enjoy the breeze and sunlight, when she was suddenly struck by curiosity.  Xanxus knew where she lived, but she'd never been to the Varia headquarters before.  Would dropping by unannounced make him angry?  She wasn't sure, but she figured she had nothing better to do that day.  Making her way back to town, she found a flower stand in the open air market and looked over the choices very carefully.  When she'd made her decision and purchased a few white flowers, she gently set them in the passenger seat of the car and fished out the paper with the address.

The Varia headquarters was in an even more remote location than the Vongola estate but it was even harder to miss, looming out of the countryside with castle-like spires.  Soko was surprised that there was only a cement wall between the road and the building, though there were a couple of men stationed outside who came to meet her.

"What's your business here?" one asked.

"I'm Belladonna," she introduced, and apparently didn't need to explain further because they nodded, one telling her he would park the car and the other escorting her inside.  Soko took the bouquet out of the car and carried it with her through the front gates.  It was noticeably cooler inside, and she glanced around, admiring the furnishings. The Varia headquarters nearly put the estate of their main family to shame, with marble floors and staircases and painted landscapes hung on the walls.

"You're here to see the boss, right?" the guard accompanying her asked, leading her up the steps to the second floor, "I don't think he's expecting you."  It was a gentle warning.

"No, he isn't."

"His office is the last one on the left side of the hall," he said, gesturing to the right hallway, and she thanked him.  She'd only just started walking when she heard hurried footsteps in her direction and turned to see one of the men who had been with Xanxus at the industrial complex.  She'd been a little out of it at the time, but they all stood out so much that she knew she would recognize them.  This one was tall with half of his hair shaved off and the other half brightly colored, some sticking straight up.  He was dressed in the same uniform and sunglasses he had worn then.

"Soko?" he asked, smile widening when she nodded.  "It's good to see you looking better.  The boss was worried sick, not that he would ever say as much."  He extended one gloved hand.  "Excuse me, I forgot we haven't been formally introduced.  I'm Lussuria."  She shook his hand and he eyed the flowers she cradled with her arm.  "Were you on your way to see the boss?  I'm sorry, I shouldn't keep you."

"It's fine."  She bowed.  "Thank you for taking care of me."

"Well, how sweet of you!  Just the other day, the boss was grumbling about how hard it was to get a 'thank you' out of you."

Soko looked up.  "What else has he said about me?" she asked carefully, and Lussuria laughed.

"He mostly sulks, really.  Now and then, he'll complain.  I'm not sure if you know how much of an accomplishment it is to actually hold a conversation with him--!"

"Are you done?"

Soko was startled, whirling around to face Xanxus, who had apparently left his office and was standing a few feet away.  Lussuria laughed again, giving Soko a small wave and wishing her luck before running off in the opposite direction.  Apparently satisfied, he turned around and began walking back to the open doors at the end of the hall, stopping once when he didn't hear her footsteps.

"Are you coming or not?"

She hurried after him, following him into the office, which was only slightly less extravagant than the rest of the building.  There was a cushioned chair across from his desk and she set the flowers in front of him before taking a seat.  Xanxus raised a brow at them, and then looked to Soko questioningly.

"You speak the language of flowers," she said, "Or at least one of your people does."

"It's the latter."  He pushed the bouquet to the side of the desk, off of the papers they were laying on, but did so gently.  "What do they mean?"

She frowned.  "I'm not going to just tell you."

Any patience he'd had previously evaporated.  "Is this all you came here to do?"

"I needed to get out for a while," Soko admitted, "Toko has Don Chiavarone over."

"And?"

She crossed her legs, hoping she didn't look as anxious as she felt.  "And I wanted to give them time to themselves."

"Bullshit.  You're here because seeing them together makes you uncomfortable."  

"That's not true."

"Your partner told me that."

"I never said anything like that to her," Soko argued, incensed at the idea of Toko gossiping about her with their allies, but Xanxus shrugged.  

"You've been working together for four years.  She can probably read you well."  He gestured to the flowers.  "Are you really going to make me call Lussuria down here just so I can figure out what the hell you're trying to say?"

"No need, boss," came a sing-song voice from the slightly open doors behind Soko and she glanced over her shoulder.  Lussuria opened the door the rest of the way, revealing himself and three others--Soko recognized all of them from the rescue operation--huddled just outside the office.

"Trash," Xanxus growled in a warning tone.

"We'll leave soon," one of the others said with a grin, the blond who had thrown a knife at Rita, "We just wanted to see the boss' woman."

Soko took a moment to process his words before she realized what he was saying and almost shot out of her chair.  "What?"

"What kind of moron gives  _flowers_ to a mafia assassin?" another murmured.

"Hush, Levi, don't you remember Xanxus sent flowers first?  She's replying, it's cute."

"Voi, is that really the same woman?  She looks different."

"Of course she does, idiot.  She wasn't wearing anything but blood and tattoos the last time we saw her, ushishishi~."

"Lussuria," Xanxus said, the finality of his voice stopping all conversation, "What do the flowers mean?"

"White violets," he sighed, "They mean, 'let's take a chance on happiness.'"

Soko covered her face with her hands, mortified.  She wasn't supposed to be present for this part.  The whole point of the flowers was so she could get her message across remotely.  Sure, she'd hand-delivered them, but she was sure that Xanxus wasn't the only one who would know what they meant, and she hadn't though he'd demand to know right then and there.

"Do you need anything else, boss?" Lussuria asked sweetly, and when Soko glanced timidly up at him, she saw rage bubbling just beneath the surface.

"Get out of my office, all of you."

There was a chorus of, "Yes, boss," before the door's shut and, to Soko's horror, his attention returned to her.  He looked a little bewildered, but mostly amused.

"Are you...propositioning me?"

"No," she blurted, wondering if she could dart out the doors, too.  She couldn't even look at him anymore.

"Stop that," he ordered, "You're an assassin.  Don't hide behind your hands like a brat just because you're embarrassed."

"I don't think you understand just how uncomfortable I am right now."

"Trash...."

"Will you stop calling me that?"

Xanxus paused only a second after her outburst before continuing, "The flowers were a joke, and you know that.  I don't do indirect communication.  If you have something you want to ask, then ask now, to my face."

And that, Soko knew, was not going to happen.  So she asked something else.  "How old are you?"

Xanxus looked like he was debating whether or not to throw her out.  "You should really know better," but he still humored her, "Thirty-four."  He waited.

"Not going to ask me?"

"No.  You're younger, I know that much by looking at you."  

The tension was building again.  She could tell he was close to drawing his weapon, and honestly, so was she.  The best course of action, she decided, would be to leave, and she slowly stood from her chair.  Xanxus didn't stop her, but he kept his eyes locked with hers every step she took back towards the door until she slipped out, sneering, "coward."

Lussuria was waiting for her in the entryway.  "How did it go?" he asked anxiously, gesturing for one of the guards nearby to fetch her car.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Your confession, dear," he said, then frowned at her silence.  "That wasn't what you were here to do?"

"I honestly don't know what I was here to do," she said, "But no, that didn't end up happening."

He still offered a smile.  "There'll be other chances."

She wasn't sure she wanted another chance, but let out an uneasy, "thank you," for lack of anything better to say.

When her car was brought around, Soko returned his wave and headed out, glancing back at the Varia headquarters in her rearview mirror once before driving away.  She didn't think there could possibly be a worse pair; her flaws and Xanxus' were of a similar nature, reclusive habits and mistrust, and she worried that the only relationship they'd create would inevitably become a train wreck.  She envied Toko and whatever it is she had with Don Chiavarone, the way he'd slowly and gently entered their lives as opposed to how Xanxus had shoved himself into hers.

She doubted this had anything to do with complicated mafia relationships and everything to do with another thing she and Xanxus had in common--poor people skills.


	11. Chapter 11

Soko slept through the flight and was awoken by Toko excitedly prodding at her shoulder as the plane landed.  After arriving at Narita, they had an hour-long flight to Sapporo, and another hour drive from there to the hot spring resort.  She was exhausted by the time they finally reached their destination in the mountains.

“Soko, look,” Toko called once they’d set their bags down and gotten settled.  She pushed the screen door open and went out onto the room’s balcony, leaning over the railing to look down the mountain.  “It’s beautiful out here.”

“Hm,” Soko responded, eyeing the striped yukata left for them at the door to the room.  It had been so long since she’d been in Japan or worn Japanese clothing.  She had prided herself on not feeling homesick, but she realized now that she had missed it, and took one of the folded robes and hugged it to her chest.  Home, she thought with a small smile.

“I’m going to the steam room first,” Toko said, leaving the screen doors open to let the night air in and bending to pick up the yukata and towel beside Soko, who only nodded in response.  Toko glanced at her once before leaving.

Not long after she’d left, Soko heard footsteps coming down the hall and the door to the room opened again.  She looked up to see Xanxus standing in the hallway wearing one of the yukata, a towel and wooden bucket in hand.  He didn’t say a word for a moment, just stared down at her as she looked up from the floor, holding the yukata close to her chest. 

“Are you going to get changed?” he asked finally, and she shrugged.

“I might.”

He didn’t move from the door.

“I will,” she insisted, shooing him and shutting the door on his smirking face.  She shut the screen doors and hurriedly stripped of her clothing before putting the robe on.  She grabbed her own towel and bucket on her way out, finding Xanxus waiting just outside, and walked with him down the hall towards the hot spring.

“Have you been to an  _onsen_ before?” she asked.

“Several times,” he said, “I did a lot of traveling between Japan and Italy a while back, when the Tenth was just a brat.  Where’s your partner?”

“Steam room.” 

“Hm.”  Soko thought he looked close to smiling.  “Funny.  The Chiavarone boss was headed that way, too.”

They separated only briefly to use the showers, and Soko set her belongings down, timidly pushing aside the drape in the doorway that led to the outdoor bath.  Xanxus was already in the water, his arms braced on the rocks behind him and his eyes closed.  Soko climbed in timidly, submerging herself to her shoulders and sitting across from him.

“You’re from this island, aren’t you?” he asked, his eyes still closed and his head tilted back on the rocks.

“Yes,” Soko answered, “I was born in a town not too far from here, actually.”

“Aren’t you worried you’ll see someone you know?”

She hesitated to answer.  “A little.”

Neither of them spoke for a time, and Soko gazed up at the night sky through the swirling mists of warm air coming from the bath.  Being so close to home made her wonder about her old allegiances.  She wondered how Tsuki was doing, and if she’d managed to find some small happiness in her life.  She wondered how her mother was, now widowed, little more than a common whore for the yakuza.  She wondered how the new _oyabun_ was handling the family, if his taste for young girls had gotten him in trouble yet.  She wondered if they were all still alive, even, or if a turnover or power struggle might have killed them all.

“Trash,” she heard Xanxus call and realized he was talking to her.  His eyes were open.  “I asked if the stab wound scarred or not.”

“I don’t know,” she said, and he stood in the bath, drifting over to where she sat. 

“Stand up,” he ordered, and she knew arguing with him would be pointless, so she slowly did as he asked, turning away from him, shivering when the cold air hit her skin.  Xanxus was silent for a long time and she almost got back in as her arms became riddled with goose bumps.  “It’s fine,” he said finally, and she hurriedly sat back down in the water.  “They’re a bit unconventional for yakuza, aren’t they?”

“A bit,” she admitted, eyeing him carefully as she turned to face him in the water.  He hadn’t gone back to the other side.  She wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear exactly, though she was under the impression that he was trying to get a feel for her without asking the more typical questions one usually would to get to know someone.

“Do they just look nice, or do they mean something, too?”

“Every motif means something, but they’re not terribly specific.  It’s all general things, like ‘strength,’ and ‘protection.’”

They sat in silence a moment longer before Xanxus dared to break it.  “Do you know how non-business associations work within the family?”

Soko was on-guard again.  “No.”

“Well, to start, we both stop pretending that we’re not interested.  Do you think you can handle that?”  Soko met his eyes, and he immediately read the unspoken question.  “Don’t ask me something stupid, like ‘why me?’  You already know the answer to that,” he said impatiently, “You can tolerate me, and I can tolerate you.  I hear that’s a lot further than you usually get, so we already have something in common.”

She was speechless.  Xanxus was really asking if she wanted to have an involvement that went beyond business the way that only he could.  “I don’t think,” she said cautiously, “That you or I are people meant for romance.”

He almost smirked.  “I never said anything about romance, trash.”  She bit back the urge to parrot his words from days earlier, asking if he was now propositioning her, but found herself unable to quite bring the words out of her mouth and only nodded dumbly.  Xanxus was suddenly much closer; she could feel their thighs touching in the water.  “If you have any objections,” he said lowly as she turned to face him, “Now’s the time to say something.”

“You want to…here?” she whispered anxiously, gaze flicking back to the doorway to the resort on the far edge of the bath.  This apparently didn’t count as an objection, because Xanxus moved forward, and she was honestly startled when she felt his lips pressed against hers.  The kiss was not in any way an affectionate gesture, holding only fervent lust as he tugged at her lower lip with his teeth and his hands wandered her body in the water. 

He pulled away after what Soko thought was much too short, eyeing her with an unreadable expression.  She figured she must not have been very responsive.  “You can leave if you’re not sure of what you want,” he growled. 

She wasn’t sure what came over her, but Soko was suddenly pushing herself off of the rocky shelf she sat on to slide into Xanxus’ lap, draping her arms over his shoulders.  “I do know,” she promised, grinding their hips together, and it was his turn to be surprised.

*

“Welcome back,” her partner said from her seat at the table, and Soko nodded in response and shut the door behind her.  “I was beginning to wonder if you fell asleep in the bath.  The warm water really feels….”  As she came to sit down across from her, Toko stopped talking and stared.  “Soko, there’s something on your neck.”

Soko didn’t say a word.  She took a deep breath, leaned over the table, covered her face with her hands, and exhaled. 

“A lot of somethings, actually.”  She paused.  “Are they…?”  Toko didn’t finish, apparently able to come to the conclusion on her own.  “Soko,” she said again, and she could hear the smile in her partner’s voice.  “Did you really?”

“I think the answer is obvious,” she snapped.

“Well, yes,” Toko said, trying not to laugh, “You may want to look in the mirror so you can plan what to wear for the next couple of days.”

At that, Soko stood from the table.  “I’m going to bed.”

“I wasn’t trying to tease you,” Toko said immediately and stood as well.  “Soko, please.  I’m sorry, I was just surprised.”  She rested a hand on Soko’s shoulder and was reassured when she didn’t shrug it off.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” she said.

“Do you regret it?”

Soko only had to think a moment.  “No,” she shook her head, “I don’t.”  Truthfully, Xanxus was the first person in years that she had been intimate with out of choice rather than obligation for work.  Although she didn’t want to say anything to Toko, she felt different now, a little lighter and maybe empowered in some way.

“I’m glad,” her partner said, letting go of her shoulder, “We should get some rest, I suppose.  We’ve got a few more days in Hokkaido.”

Soko nodded and went to the cupboard in the corner of the room to unfold the futons, but paused when she saw Toko walking towards the bathroom.  For just a moment, as the neckline of the yukata dipped with her steps, she was sure she saw a red mark just below her partner's jaw.  When the bathroom door slid shut, she went back to work and tried very hard not to think about it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaving for vacation in a few days and will be gone for a bit, so there probably won't be an update next week. Sorry about that!

Soko was the first one awake the next morning, having showered and dressed by the time her partner woke up.  She had gone down for a newspaper earlier and was reading the cover story as Toko drifted between the bathroom and the main room to get ready, chattering to her in Japanese.  “It’s been a while since I’ve had to use it,” she said as she tied her hair back, “I hope I still remember.”

“You’re speaking it now,” Soko said without looking up from the paper, “And you speak it with me a lot.”

“Well, yes,” her partner said, crossing her arms over her chest, “But you know what I….”  She winced and cursed under her breath, and Soko looked up.

“What?”

“Nothing.”  Soko stared hard, but Toko only waved her off.  “Nothing, nothing!  It’s really nothing, just some chest pain.”

“You should go to a doctor,” Soko advised.

“When we get back to Italy,” her partner promised, so Soko didn’t push the matter further.

Don Chiavarone and Xanxus met them in front of the resort, having already called a cab to take them into town.  Toko and the Chiavarone boss made small talk with the driver while Xanxus glared at the scenery and Soko lost herself to the past for what she promised herself would be the last time.  They were dropped off at the first street corner that Toko thought looked interesting and all eyes turned to Soko. 

“It’s up to you today,” her partner encouraged, and Soko shrugged and started walking.  The streets were familiar, even though she hadn’t been there for so long.  They couldn’t be far from her hometown.  She passed by storefronts and businesses without a clear destination in mind, and sometimes she’d forget that there were people with her. 

“Maybe we should eat,” she suggested to no one in particular, “The ramen is good here.”  When no one objected, she began walking in a different direction.  She smiled when she saw the ramen shop; she’d come here when she was just a girl often, sometimes even with her father.  Pushing the curtain aside, she ducked into the shop and found a seat at the counter.  Toko left a seat between them where Xanxus reluctantly sat, and they eyed the menu.

“What can I get you?” the chef asked, looking over Soko’s companions quickly when he realized they were all foreigners, but he paused when his eyes reached her.  It was an older man, and she thought it might even be the same one who’d always made her ramen years ago.  She urged the others to make a decision—though they almost unanimously had her decide for them—and tried not to look at him too long as she ordered.  He stayed a moment longer before turning, apparently deciding he didn’t know her.  She thought it was for the best.

“Yuri?” came a voice from her left, and Soko turned reflexively, eyes wide in shock.  There was one other person in the ramen shop with them, a man who must have been closer to Xanxus in age, and Toko’s conversation with Don Chiavarone suddenly stopped when the others noticed him.  He was slender with his hair cut short and was dressed like a business man, but Soko saw the edge of a tattoo sticking out from his sleeve on his arm, the soft lines of a carp’s tail, and knew immediately who it was.

“Yuri,” he said again, more certain this time, “It really is you.”

“ _Nii-san_ , I have to ask you not to call me that anymore,” she said when she finally found her voice again.  He smiled slightly when she addressed him.

“Ah.  Then what do I call you now?”

Soko suddenly remembered that there were other people sitting behind her.  When she glanced over her shoulder, she immediately noticed Xanxus.  He was giving the other man a look that possessed what she may have earlier misinterpreted as killing intent, though after having come to know him better, she recognized it as Xanxus sizing him up.

“Soko,” she answered finally, returning her attention to him, though his gaze had wandered to the others.

“Are these foreigners all with you?” he asked, looking at Xanxus carefully, “Or just him?  Is he your….”

“They’re all with me,” Soko interrupted, “He’s a cleaner.”

“Independent?”

“No.  With an organization.”  When the chef returned with their ramen, she thanked him and lowered her voice further.  “Italian.”

“Really?”

Soko stirred the noodles in her bowl.  “ _Nii-san_ ,” she said quietly, “Are you…going to tell him I’m here?”

The other man studied her expression closely.  “No,” he said at last, “There’s no reason to.  You left with his blessing, remember?”  He smiled.  “Don’t worry, nobody’s going to come looking for you.  I promise.”  She glanced at him and nodded meekly.  “Take care of yourself,” he told her as he stood, leaving a few bills on the counter.  Soko didn’t exhale until he was gone, and finally began to eat.  She noticed that the others hadn’t touched their ramen, either.

“You have a brother?” Xanxus asked after a moment.

She shook her head.  “I don’t want to talk about it right now,” she said, and when he looked like he might argue, her gaze flicked to the ramen chef on the other side of the restaurant, who was looking at all of them warily.  “Please.”

He respected her wishes, if only to avoid unnecessary attention.

*

Her partner had tried to encourage her to take them somewhere else, but Soko was so uneasy after the encounter at the ramen shop, constantly looking over her shoulder, that they eventually gave up and decided to head back.  Don Chiavarone had just called for a cab when Soko heard her partner inhale sharply and glanced back to see her trying to pass it off as a yawn.  “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, and Toko tried to wave her off, but it was too late; Don Chiavarone came over looking concerned and asked what was wrong.

“I’m fine,” she said with a laugh, but he wasn’t convinced.  Soko looked between them and couldn’t help but think, with a twinge of hurt, that he must have known more than she did.

“We’ll stay out a while longer,” Don Chiavarone said only after Soko and Xanxus were already inside the taxi, giving her no time to complain.

“I want to hear the story later,” Toko yelled after them, and Soko glanced back, watching them vanish into the distance.

They didn’t look at each other for the entire ride back, but when they got out, Xanxus grabbed her arm and started leading away from the resort, down the road and into the woods that lined the road.  Soko didn’t protest when they he stopped at the bank of a creek, curious as to how he’d known it was there, but she glanced up the mountainous road and saw the resort hidden in the trees.  He must have seen it from his room.

“Do you want to talk about it now?” he asked, though it was less of a question and more of a demand.

Soko knelt by the stream and reached out, sticking her fingertips into the chilly water.  “It’s funny.  Even Toko doesn’t know yet.  I guess it’s not so strange, though, because she tells Don Chiavarone all kinds of things.”  He didn’t reply.  “If I have any siblings, I’ve never met them,” she said, “In the yakuza, we address each other as family, because that bond is supposed to be even stronger than blood.  He was one of my _kyoudai_ when I was still part of the organization.”

“What did he think I was?”

She was hoping he’d missed that part.  “You can probably guess.  I left with two marketable job skills; sex and killing.  Most of the _kyoudai_ doubted I would pursue a life as an assassin, though.”

“Why did you leave?” he asked.

Soko was surprised that she had to think about it.  “Maybe,” she murmured, “I wasn’t happy after all.  Or maybe I just wanted to try something different.”  She paused.  “Then again, probably not.  I went to Europe, and I knew right away what kind of work I would do.”

“You don’t know.”  She stood up and looked at Xanxus, whose eyes held something like pity.  She couldn’t stand to see that from him and turned her attention back to the stream.  “Did you ever know?”

“I must have,” she insisted, “Why would I have left without a reason?”

They were both silent for a time, the only sound that of the trees rustling overhead, and Soko suddenly felt despair overtake her.  She didn’t know why, but it was as if every moment of self-imposed solitude and every upsetting event from her youth returned all at once, and she wondered if maybe she didn’t leave for one reason but for many reasons.  Maybe she had been running from something, or a lot of somethings, and maybe she was still running.  Now that she was standing still long enough to notice, she could see why.  Xanxus turned and started walking back to the road, and she silently followed him, staying a few steps behind until he purposefully slowed down to match her pace.

They were walking down the hallway in the resort when Xanxus stopped her a few doors before her own.  He pushed the sliding door open and went in, glancing back at her until she followed him inside.  She barely had the door shut behind her when he pulled towards him by her forearm and crushed their lips together, his hands moving immediately for the zipper of her jacket.  “Xanxus,” she gasped, pulling away just enough to speak, “What are you…?”

“You can leave now if you don’t want it,” he said, eyes burning, “Or you can stay.” 

She didn’t move.  He held her gaze as he slipped the jacket over her shoulders and began working on the drawstrings of her sweatpants.  She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him, wondering if this was him trying to comfort her.  “I don’t want you to pity me,” she said, and his hands stilled for just a moment, resting on her hips. 

He didn’t smile, but she thought his eyes might have softened just a bit.  “I do not,” he said, tugging at the fabric of her pants until they pooled around her ankles on the floor, “And have never pitied you.”  He paused before murmuring, “Trash,” and began undressing.  Soko hurriedly pulled her shirt off over her head and tossed it aside, shivering, but Xanxus was pressed against her a moment later.  “I don’t want to fuck someone who gets lost in thought while I’m inside them,” he growled, biting her earlobe, “So keep your thoughts on me right now.”

Soko had meant to say something about not leaving marks anywhere visible, but she didn’t care anymore.  She might have even asked him to leave more so every time she looked in the mirror she’d notice those before she even noticed her tattoos.

*

Soko didn’t remember falling asleep, but she woke up next to Xanxus the next morning.  She caught herself looking at his scars again, just like the last time they’d been intimate.  She thought they must be burns, dark and blotchy, scattered all over his skin.  She didn’t know him well enough to feel like she was allowed to touch them, nor did she feel she could ask about them yet, but she looked at them frequently, trying to memorize them all.  Xanxus sat up on the bed, going through messages on his phone, and Soko laid on her chest with the blanket over her hips. 

“Our room doesn’t have a bed like this,” she commented.

“You didn’t ask for one.”

“You did?”

“No,” he said, “One of the staff here asked if I wanted one this morning.  They probably heard you last night in the bath.”  Soko’s face flushed and he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, smirking just a bit.  “You’re usually so quiet.  I didn’t expect you to make that much noise.”  She couldn’t come up with a reply, so she stayed quiet, looking at her hands stretched out in front of her.  Xanxus’ rough hand came to rest on her back, right in the middle, and she glanced up at him.  His expression was unreadable.  She waited, knowing which tattoo he was touching, holding her breath to hear him say it.

But his phone vibrated, and he never did, hitting a button and holding it to his ear.  Soko was almost disappointed when his hand retreated.  He said something low in Italian, and Soko didn’t quite catch it, but she began listening closely when his brows furrowed.  “What do you mean?” he asked, then paused.  “Hm.  Tomorrow, then?  I’ll tell her.”  He hung up without another word, and didn’t quite look at her.

 “That was Don Chiavarone,” he said, tone softer than usual, “He talked your partner into going to a local clinic yesterday.”  He was reluctant to continue.  “They’re going to test for cancer.”

Soko stared up at him, unsure if she’d heard him correctly.  “What…?”

“He said he’s been concerned about a swollen spot on her breast,” he said, and Soko sat up, immediately panicked.  Toko had never mentioned it to her.  She thought about her partner’s reported chest pain.  Xanxus said something else, but she was too panicked to hear.  “Soko,” he said firmly, and she looked at him, shocked that he’d actually used her name. 

If there hadn’t been pity in his eyes before, there was now. 

“Get dressed,” he said shortly, “Your partner probably wants to see you.”  She did so in silence on the other end of the room, and she was thankful that Xanxus read her well enough to know she needed space.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back from vacation with a new chapter! :D

Soko had known Toko for four years.  She had seen her partner in quiet contentment in an art gallery, the way her eyes sparkled when she retold the events of her day, how she cried the first time Soko was injured on a job and she had to stitch the wound up herself and didn’t want to admit that she was worried.  But the expression on Toko’s face as she sat in the clinic’s waiting room, face white and eyes blank, staring at the checkered floor, was something Soko had never seen before.  It was fear, but it wasn’t like the nervous smiles she gave before they charged into enemy territory, or even the wide-eyed, silent terror that crossed her face when she was held at gunpoint.  That was a fear of instant death, so quick it might wrap its arms around her before she could even blink.

The fear that Soko saw now was of a death that was much slower, one that walked rather than ran, taking its time because it knew that eventually, Toko would run out of breath.

Don Chiavarone was at her side, one hand holding hers, the other at his ear with his phone, speaking quickly in Italian.  Soko caught enough to know that he was making arrangements at another hospital.  “They want to do a biopsy,” he said after he hung up, fingers stroking Toko’s hand, “We’re getting an escort to take us to Honshu.  I own a hospital near Tokyo.  There are some excellent doctors there.”

“Toko,” Soko called to her partner, bending slightly to be at eye level.  She didn’t even look at her.  “Toko, do you…do you want to talk?”  Soko knew she wasn’t any good at this; comfort was always Toko’s strong point.  Staring at her partner’s despondent face, she wasn’t sure how the other did it.  Soko was at a loss for words in any language, so she slowly wrapped her arms around Toko.  “Please say something,” she begged, “Toko, please.  Anything at all.”

Her partner remained still and silent, eyes downcast.  A single tear rolled down her cheek and hit the floor without a sound.

*

“They don’t know for certain yet,” Xanxus said, sitting beside Soko in his room at the resort.  She had wanted to go with her partner and Don Chiavarone to Tokyo, but she couldn’t bring herself to move, and Xanxus had ended up taking her back with him instead.  It didn’t seem real.  Soko could only think about how Toko had lived a lengthy life for someone in her field, and how she was good, good enough to live much longer.  It was ironic, cruelly ironic, that this could happen to her.  Of course, it wasn’t as if their jobs made them immune to ordinary deaths.  Soko thought again of Reborn’s words to her in their first meeting, the firm reminder that they were human, and that mortality was something that they, too, must face.

“I should have gone,” Soko said, more to herself than to him, “She needs me right now.  Why couldn’t I do it?”

Xanxus didn’t say anything.  Soko figured they were on equal footing in terms of their skill at comforting others.  His phone rang, and her eyes flew to him when he answered.  “She’s fine,” he said, eyeing Soko, “She’s right here.”  He paused.  “No.  We’ll be there.”

“Don Chiavarone?” she asked as soon as he hung up. 

He shook his head.  “Vongola.  And he needs us back home.”

Soko bit her lip.  “Now?”

“Yes, now.”  He stood from the table.  “You’d better pack.  Don’t forget your partner’s things.”  Soko reluctantly got to her feet and left for the room she’d shared with Toko, fighting tears every step of the way.

*

“I’m really sorry,” Don Vongola said the moment Soko walked into the meeting room, “I’d hoped to give you an entire week to yourself.  Would you accept another vacation?”

“It’s fine,” she said, going to sit next to Xanxus.  The table was mostly occupied for the first time in Soko’s memory, as all of Don Vongola’s guardians seemed to be present.  Reborn, too, was seated on the other side of Xanxus. 

“Where’s Toko?” Don Vongola asked, and Soko frowned.

“She couldn’t make it,” she said stiffly, “I’ll pass the information along to her.”

He looked concerned but pressed on, going to sit down at the head of the table.  “It’s the Bencivenni,” he said quietly, “Again.”

“Maybe we should just kill all of them at once, rather than drag this out for months,” Soko snapped, only remembering herself when she took in Don Vongola’s stunned expression.  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, but someone on the other side of the table—a man seated next to a woman with an identical hairstyle, his eyes mismatched colors—laughed.

“I think she’s got the right idea,” he said, “They’ve made quite a few trespasses on our territory, and then their boss’ brat even goes after your assassins.  Don’t you think they need to be put in their place?”

“Not to mention the economic trouble they’ve caused us, what with the mole that was watching finances,” the silver-haired guardian muttered, “I know you like to wait until someone really steps out of line, Tenth, but I think they’ve been standing on it just to see what you’ll do for a while now.”

“I was going to say,” Don Vongola said firmly, interrupting all chatter, “That the Bencivenni haven’t appointed a new don yet, apparently due to infighting and typical inheritance squabbles.  They’ve nearly dissolved, though there is one splinter group that’s trying to hang on, and they’re building alliances with every other tiny family that dislikes the Vongola.”

“Sounds like they must still have some organization,” the Japanese guardian said, and Don Vongola nodded with a grimace.

“They do.  They’ve even named a new don, and she uses the Bencivenni name, though that move has been controversial among the rest of the old family.”

“She?” Soko repeated curiously.

“Yes.  The late Don Bencivenni’s mistress.”

She frowned.  “Rita’s mother?”

Don Vongola nodded.  “There’s no danger in any of these small groups on their own,” he continued, “But I won’t underestimate what they’re capable of when they come together, nor do I want to continue to allow their transgressions.  We’ve identified all of the groups involved, and I intend to have this handled as soon as possible, but this is still going to be a large-scale operation, and I’m going to need all the manpower I can get.”  He gave Soko a sympathetic glance.  “That’s why I had to bring you back for this.  Of course, I don’t feel comfortable sending you in as just a two-person team, so you’re welcome to accompany one of the other squads.  Are you and Toko rested enough to do it?”

Half a minute passed as Soko tried to decide whether or not she needed to tell Don Vongola about what had happened, and Xanxus eventually decided for her. 

“Her partner is in Tokyo getting tested for breast cancer,” he said, and Don Vongola looked horrified.

“Oh no….” he said softly, “Soko, I don’t even know what to say.  If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have—!”

“Please let me go on this mission,” she said, her hands clenching into fists in her lap, “Don Vongola, I’m still able.  I’ve completed several hits for you involving the Bencivenni already.  I’m familiar with the maneuvers their men use.”  She paused.  “I want to go with the group that pursues Don Bencivenni.”

Don Vongola looked reluctant.  “I actually haven’t decided yet who’ll handle that,” he said.

“Then let me lead that squad.”  Soko glanced over at Xanxus, who had suddenly joined the conversation.  “There’s no question that she’s unstable right now,” he continued, and she tried to argue, but he talked over her, “Your guardians aren’t very familiar with her, either.  It’d best if she came with me.”

“If you must go,” Don Vongola said, “Then I suppose the Varia squad would be the best choice.”

“Thank you,” Soko said, and didn’t say a word for the rest of the meeting, thoughts focused on her next mission.  Her first hit for the Vongola had been on Don Bencivenni.  Toko had carried it out.  She’d taken care of his daughter, and now his wife had put her head up on the chopping block.  She knew what it was like to be the boss’ family, and how it felt to be left behind, and she felt obligated to send this woman to her husband and child.  She needed to finish what she and Toko had started.

*

When the meeting drew to a close, Xanxus motioned for Soko to follow him, and she ended up in his car headed towards the Varia headquarters.  “I prefer to give mission orders in person rather than over the phone,” he said, eyes on the road, and Soko nodded absently.  He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.  “Since you’re working with my squad, you’re under my command for the duration of this mission.”

She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. 

“So if I tell you to pull back rather than rush in like an idiot, then you’ll listen.  If you don’t, I’m not going to be nice enough to put a bullet in the back of your head.  It’ll probably be your leg again.”  He paused.  “You’re not the first two-man group I’ve seen lose one half of their operation.”  She glanced over at him curiously.  “Sometimes, they really don’t care, but now and then, there are groups like yours.  You can pretend you don’t give a shit all you want, but your partner dies, and that’s when you make dumb mistakes and you follow them into the ground.”

“She might be okay,” Soko said quietly, and Xanxus rolled his eyes.

“You wouldn’t hear it when I said that earlier, but you know what?  I was wrong.  You need to be ready for what comes after, whether she’s fine or not.”

“You’re terrible at comforting people.”

“I wasn’t trying to comfort you.”  He fell silent again until the Varia headquarters came into view.  “I mean it.”

“What?”

“If you do something stupid, I will shoot you in the leg.”

“I don’t doubt it, boss.”

He glanced at her.  Soko managed a small smile. 

“I’m supposed to call you that now, aren’t I?”

She couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking when he looked at her.  “Yeah,” he said finally, “You are.”

*

Soko wasn’t as quick as she wanted to be at remembering names, but the Varia officers were easy to memorize just because of how different they were.  They were already gathered in the Varia’s meeting room, which was slightly smaller and not as well-lit as the one at the Vongola estate.  She was surprised to see Lussuria, though he was excited to see her again, offering a little wave and gesturing for her to sit next to him on the right side of the table, and she took him up on it because he was familiar. 

She had seen the others before, either during the rescue, or when she’d dropped off the bouquet for Xanxus, though this was her first time hearing their names.  Squalo, a man who had grown out his white hair, sat to his boss’ immediate left, and didn’t pay her much attention.  Leviathan was a larger man and sat on the other side of Lussuria.  He’d looked at Soko almost appraisingly as soon as she’d walked in.  And Belphegor, who had a mop of blond hair with a silver tiara on top of his head, sat beside Squalo, snickering throughout most of the introductions.

Soko had noticed a bottle of something dark and expensive and a glass ready for Xanxus on the table when they’d come in, and he poured it once she introduced herself.  As soon as she was done, he launched into an explanation of the situation so far.  Soko was surprised that he was regularly interrupted by his own officers, most frequently Squalo, his response to throw his glass down the table at the offender’s head with as much force as possible.  It shattered as it collided with the side of Squalo’s head, and the man only yelled louder.  Soko glanced around the table, assuming it to be a normal occurrence when nobody said anything.

Lussuria took note of this and patted her arm.  “Don’t worry,” he whispered, “Come by often enough and you’ll hardly notice when someone throws something during a meeting.”

“Reborn’s provided a blueprint of the compound Don Bencivenni’s group is hiding out at,” Xanxus went on, “Make your preparations now, because the coordinated attack begins tomorrow morning before dawn.”

Soko nudged Lussuria.  “Are you all leading your own squads?” she whispered, and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“Oh, no.  All of us in this room right now?  This is the squad that’s going tomorrow.”

“There are only six of us.”

He smiled.  “Six is all we’re going to need.”

Xanxus dismissed the meeting shortly after, and his officers drifted out to prepare.  Soko was heading out to do the same, but Xanxus called to her before she left, “Get whatever you’re using tomorrow and come back here.” 

She glanced back at him.  “I’ll be up on time,” she told him, “I doubt I’ll be getting much sleep tonight.”

“That’s why you’re spending the night here,” he said, and she realized what he meant just as he started to smirk, “When I’m done with you, you’ll be exhausted.”

“Don’t your officers sleep here, too?” she asked timidly.

“As if they haven’t guessed already.”

She tried to hide her embarrassment.  “Okay.  Then I’ll be back.”  She paused in the doorway to the meeting room.  “Thank you, Xanxus.”

He met her gaze, eyes just beginning to soften, when he smirked, said, “You’re supposed to call me ‘boss’ now, remember?” and whatever tender moment Soko was trying to pretend they were having was ruined. 

She still smiled.


	14. Chapter 14

Soko’s cell phone buzzed on the table around midnight, just as she was finally drifting off, and Xanxus was glaring at it like he wanted to throw it out the window, so she hurriedly got out of bed to answer.  “Toko?” she said, unable to keep the anxiety out of her voice.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” she heard her partner say, sounding tired, “I wanted to let you sleep in, but I thought I should call and remind you to do something fun today.”

Soko paused.  “Ah.  I’m not in Japan right now.”

“What?  Where are you?”

“Italy,” she said, “Don Vongola had a job, and it couldn’t wait.”  Toko didn’t reply.  “I’m sorry, I should have said something, but it’ll be quick.  I’m not by myself.”

“No, it’s fine,” Toko said, “Are you working with Xanxus?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” she could hear the smile in Toko’s voice, “Can I ask a favor?”

“Of course.”

“When you’re done with the job, stay in Italy.  Don’t come to visit me.”

Soko was silent.  “What?”

“Stay in Italy for a little while,” her partner repeated softly, “I’ll be fine here.  Di…Don Chiavarone found a place in town, just something small and temporary, and we’re going to stay here until the doctors are sure….”  She didn’t finish.  “And then, I guess we’ll go from there.”

“You’d….”  Soko swallowed.  “Rather not see me?”

“It’s not like that,” Toko said quickly, “I promise, that’s not it.  I’d rather you not…see me _like this_.”  Soko wanted to argue, but decided against it.

“Okay,” she said, “I won’t.  But I want to hear about anything that happens.”

“You will,” Toko promised, voice wavering, “Call me after your job.”

Soko pulled the phone away from her ear to see that Toko had ended the call, and set it back down on the table.  Xanxus didn’t pry, but he did wait until she was in bed again to lie back down.

*

The Varia, Soko found out in the morning, loved doing things at the last minute.  Xanxus’ advice to them to prepare the night before had apparently been largely ignored.  As she walked down the hall to the meeting room, she passed Leviathan, who was scrambling to find one of his swords, and Belphegor, who looked like he’d just rolled out of bed.

When everyone was finally present at the table, Soko expected Xanxus to lay out the blueprint and give orders, but he never did.  “Our primary target is the appointed leader of this group, wife of the late Don Bencivenni, who has begun to refer to herself with the same title,” he said, “But the ultimate objective of this operation is complete annihilation of all members of the groups in this alliance.  You are to kill everyone you come across within the premises.”

“There will likely be civilians, such as the cleaning staff,” Soko said, “Did Don Vongola give permission for their execution as well?”

“He did, albeit reluctantly,” Xanxus said, “Which is in our best interest.  We don’t need a repeat of the incident with Bencivenni’s daughter.”  He surveyed the room, taking in the expressions of his officers.  “I assume there are no other questions?”  Nobody spoke.  “Let’s go.”

“Wait, that’s it?” Soko protested as she walked with the others, following Xanxus out the door.  “How many entrances are there?  Do we even have a route planned?”

“Do I hear someone questioning my authority back there?” Xanxus asked without turning around and she rolled her eyes.

“I’m not ‘questioning your authority.’  I’m asking if we have a plan.”

He didn’t respond, but Lussuria began walking beside her and started to explain.  “It’s just how we do things here,” he said with a bright smile, “We plan out the basics, but for the most part, we prefer a bit of spontaneity.”

Soko wasn’t sure she saw the merits.  Of course, if you didn’t have a plan, then your enemies obviously wouldn’t catch onto what you were doing.  But there was so much that could go wrong on a job; she thought about all the times things had gone wrong for her despite all of her planning, and figured she’d have been dead if she’d run in without one.

“Levi will cause a short circuit in the building’s electricity,” he continued, “And we’ll split up once we get inside.  You’re used to working solo from time to time anyway, right?”

“Well, yes, but….”

“You’re not going in alone,” Xanxus interrupted, glancing back over his shoulder at her, “You’re staying with me.”

“I can pull my own weight,” Soko started, but he cut her off again.

“This isn’t up for discussion,” he said, stopping and turning to face her.  The rest of the squad kept walking, leaving the two of them in the hallway.  “Until we get back to Don Vongola to report a successful mission, you’re my subordinate, and I’m not going to tolerate any backtalk or disobedience.  Do you understand?”

She took a deep breath.  She’d learned early on that getting angry back wouldn’t fix anything, because Xanxus was too prideful to stand down, even when he knew he was wrong.  In this case, however, she knew—with begrudging acceptance—that he was right.  “Yes, boss,” she said finally, and they started to walk again.

*

The drive to the Bencivenni compound was silent despite the entire Varia being present together in the back of a black van.  They were to be dropped off by a subordinate at a safe distance, and then they would move in under the cover of the dark, early morning sky.  It was typical for the guards to be changing shifts around this time, Soko thought, and it was an ideal moment to strike.  She’d come to realize that the Varia weren’t a disorganized mess; they simply had more experience than both her and her partner put together, and half of their strategy went unspoken, already ingrained in the minds of their members. 

It was why none of them felt the need to check their weapons until now, the silence interrupted occasionally by the metal of Belphegor’s knives scraping together or Leviathan sheathing his swords.  Soko had gotten ready hours before, but now unloaded and loaded her gun self-consciously, until Xanxus glanced at her wordlessly, apparently annoyed at the sound.

“This is your second run-in with the Bencivenni,” he said as she holstered her weapon.

“The third, actually.”

“The time you needed to be rescued doesn’t count.”  Her face flushed in embarrassment at the reminder.  “Aside from the girl, everyone there was from the Orsini.  You’ve fought the Bencivenni before, though.”

Soko nodded.  “They’re well-trained,” she said, “Patrol in groups of two or more, know how to use the environment to their advantage.  We might’ve had a more difficult time if they hadn’t been concentrated on the upper floors, protecting Rita.”

“This time, they’ll no doubt be centered on their boss,” Lussuria said, “So we know the more resistance we meet, the closer we’re getting.”

“Hm.”

“You don’t feel sorry for her, do you?” Xanxus asked and Soko met his gaze questioningly.  “The new Don Bencivenni.”

Being stared down by the red-eyed squad leader, Soko was certain she wouldn’t be able to get away with a lie.  “It’s hard not to feel a bit of pity,” she admitted, and then continued quickly when his gaze became harsh, “But it won’t stop me from making the hit if I get the chance.  If anything, I feel obligated now.”

“Obligated?”

“I was a boss’s child once,” she reminded him, “Not so different from Rita.  I think about how I felt when my father was killed, and it’s not hard for me to want to do this.”

Xanxus looked almost wistful.  “I was a boss’s child once, too,” he mused.  Soko was surprised at the sudden admission. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah.  And then I wasn’t.”

There was a finality to his voice that told Soko that he wasn’t willing to tell her the rest, but she smiled a bit, thinking she must be lucky to have heard as much as she did. 

Despite the gap in experience, Soko realized that she felt at ease with the Varia, their loud, enthusiastic meetings, their comfortable, pre-mission silence, and the bond that they so clearly shared.  She knew she wasn’t a part of that, but she thought it wouldn’t be so bad if she was.  Her mind went instantly to Toko, her pale face and her shaking hands, the sad smile she imagined when they spoke on the phone.

 _What comes after this?_ she wondered.  She had never wanted to admit before just how much Toko meant to her and how much the other took care of her.  No matter the outcome of the tests, could Soko look her partner in the eye and tell her that she would be alright, even if she wasn't around anymore? 

“Stop that,” Xanxus snapped, bringing her out of her thoughts, “I know what you’re thinking about.  Think about something else.  Keep your mind on the job.”  Soko nodded and tried to take his advice, but it was hard. 

As the van rolled to a stop, Soko slowly removed her gun from the holster and stared at it for a moment before leaning in and giving it a kiss.

*

The sun was just rising over the sounds of gunshots and screaming in the Bencivenni compound.

The power had gone out half an hour earlier, leaving only the emergency lights flashing in the hallways.   As soon as they had gotten inside, the Varia had split up, except for Soko and Xanxus, the former noticing that she was not given a reminder though nonetheless expected he would’ve made good on his promise to shoot her in the leg had she disobeyed. 

Xanxus didn’t move like he was in a hurry.  He walked at a leisurely pace down the dim hallways, weapons readied in both hands.  Soko stayed a pace behind him, not feeling quite as confident.  Every few minutes, an explosion would rock the building, and she would steady herself on the wall before continuing to follow. 

When a group of the Bencivenni’s men rounded the corner, they both threw open the closest doors to absorb the first volley and returned fire, dropping the entire group in a matter of seconds.  Xanxus was hardly conversational normally, but he hardly even spared Soko a glance now.  She wanted to interpret it as a good thing, that maybe he trusted her skills well enough that he didn’t feel the need to give orders, but she could never be sure with him.

Soko realized, as they ran into more resistance and were forced to duck into one of the rooms and hide behind a piano, that they were likely getting close to Don Bencivenni herself.  With Xanxus behind her, she leaned around the side of one of the piano legs and fired.

One.

Or two?  It was harder to count with Xanxus beside her, targets falling left and right and she was almost certain that several of them had been shot twice.  When she had to duck back into cover, she glanced at the back of the room in front of her and saw a woman in a maid’s uniform slumped against the wall.  There was a gun in one of her limp hands and a bullet wound in the side of her head.

Xanxus followed her gaze the next time he had to reload, and spoke for the first time, “They probably knew we were coming.”

Steadying herself with a deep breath, Soko lifted her head above the piano.

Three, four, five.

Xanxus had already finished off his targets, and the doorway was clear.  Without waiting for her, he started heading back towards the hallway, and she hurried to follow.

Squalo was just a few feet up ahead, and he turned when he heard their footsteps.  “Voi!” he called, “South hallway is all clear.  No sign of the Don.”

“She’s this way,” Xanxus said, nodding in the direction they were already heading, “Stay back.  The hit is hers.”

Squalo looked at Soko, who blinked in surprise but didn’t argue.  “Shouldn’t whoever gets a clear shot first be the one to do it?” he asked.  When his boss didn’t answer, he growled in frustration but said nothing more.

When they finally reached what could only be the room Don Bencivenni was hiding out in, if the number of men stationed outside of it was any indication, Squalo threw open the doors and stood to the side, but nothing happened.  Cautiously, he peeked around into the doorway and then motioned for Soko to go inside. 

Don Bencivenni was not young and beautiful like Soko imagined a mafia mistress might be.  Her hair wasn’t graying, but it was thin, and she was skinny and weak-looking, her face marred with wrinkles.  She laid in her bed with her hands clasped over her chest, neither smiling nor frowning, and her tired eyes watched Soko as she came closer.

“Don Bencivenni?” she whispered, feeling the need to make sure.

“Yes,” the woman answered hoarsely.  Soko had her gun trained on her despite feeling that it was unnecessary.  “You’re Varia, aren’t you?  I knew you’d come.”  Soko glanced around the room cautiously as she took a step closer to the woman.  “You don’t need to check; there’s nobody here but me.  If you’re going to shoot, now’s the time.”

“Why?” Soko asked, “Why were you just waiting?  Why isn’t there anybody here with you?”

“You can’t tell me,” Don Bencivenni said with a weak laugh, “That in all your years of dealing with death, you’ve really never seen someone like me before?”  She paused.  “No.  You have.  I can see it in your eyes.”

“Take the shot,” Xanxus growled, suddenly behind her, and Soko tensed.  “Don’t waste anymore time.”

“Are you really Varia?” Don Bencivenni asked, “You don’t wear their colors.  And surely, one of them would have killed me by now.”  Slowly, she began to sit up.  Soko held her ground.  “Do as he says, little assassin,” she said softly, “Your job is not cruelty, but mercy.”

“I killed your daughter,” Soko whispered.

“You killed the man I loved, too.”  She stared down Soko’s gun without even blinking, and she knew that this woman was not afraid to die.  “Do you see any fight left in me?”

“Soko,” Xanxus said, a warning, and she saw him aiming out of the corner of her eye. 

She fired before he could.

Don Bencivenni fell dead, blood staining the sheets.  Soko’s eyes went to a pile of papers on the bedside table, fingers trembling as she picked them up to read.  “We’re done,” Xanxus said, “Let’s go,” but she didn’t hear him over the sound of her heartbeat in her ears beating a million times a minute.  She held in her hands medical reports from many years, and the words she saw— _in situ, CTx, cachexia_ —were all familiar.

“She had cancer,” she murmured. 

Someone ran down the hallway towards the room from behind her, and she heard shots exchanged somewhere in the back of her mind, but they were only a distant echo.  She looked down at Don Bencivenni’s frail body and she saw Toko instead, bones protruding through her thinly stretched skin, hair falling out in clumps, motionless in bed.

Soko heard someone shout and grab her wrist, the papers falling into a cluttered pile at her feet, and then they were shaking her shoulders.  It was only after a slap across her face that she came back into the present and saw the last of the men in the doorway fall to Squalo’s sword.  Xanxus’ gaze burned into her, fury and something like pity.  She fought the tears that wanted to come out.

“It’s time to go,” he said firmly, and this time, she listened.

*

Xanxus went straight to his office when they returned to headquarters, dragging Soko along with.  As soon as the door was shut behind him, he went to his desk and leaned back in his chair, shutting his eyes and sighing heavily.  He didn’t speak for a long time, and Soko shifted her weight uneasily in front of him.

Finally, he opened his eyes.  “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

She only blinked at him, confused.

“An explanation?  An apology?  ‘Sorry for getting lost in thought in the middle of a job and almost getting killed again?’”

“Sorry,” she said quietly.

He waited.

“What do you need an explanation for?  Isn’t it obvious why—?”

“No,” he cut her off, “It’s not obvious.”

“She…had cancer….”

 “And now you can’t stop thinking about it,” he sneered, “You can’t stop thinking about her face when she looked right at the gun, and you can’t stop thinking about your partner and comparing the two of them.”  Xanxus rested an elbow on his desk and leaned forward.  “You’re not going to wake up tomorrow to find that your partner suddenly looks like her.  You’re not even going to wake up to it the next day, or the day after that.  Maybe not for years.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t,” he said, “And there’s no way I can know.  Neither can you.” 

Soko took a deep breath. 

“You should call your partner,” Xanxus said, worded as a suggestion with a tone more like an order, “Tell her you’re still alive.”

“Okay.”

He stared at her.  “‘Okay’ what?”

Soko stared back.

“I haven’t reported back to Vongola yet.”

“Okay, boss,” she said, impressed with herself for not being even a little bit annoyed.

“Better.”

Soko glanced at him.  “You know,” she said, “You didn’t shoot me in the leg.”

“Hm?”

“Towards the end, I disobeyed an order.  Twice, I think.”

“Ah.”  Xanxus set his gun on the table.  “Thanks for reminding me.”

If it were anyone else, Soko would have treated it as a joke.  But Xanxus was not smiling, so she hurried out of his office in time to hear him fire at the door near where she’d been standing.


	15. Chapter 15

The first phone call Soko made to her partner was from her apartment the evening after returning from the Bencivenni job.  Toko answered after only the first ring, sounding almost as lively as Soko remembered her.

“How did it go?” Toko asked.

Soko decided to leave out everything that happened at the end, and just said, “Fine,” and if her partner picked up on that, she chose not to say anything.  They didn’t talk for very long, and there was more that they didn’t say to each other than they did, but it only encouraged Soko to continue calling every day for the rest of the week.

It was the following Sunday that Toko answered not with a, “hello,” but with a, “You can come to Japan, if you want.  I’d like to see you.”

Don Vongola had a flight arranged within the hour, and by the following morning, Soko was in a taxi somewhere in the Tokyo area handing the address she’d gotten from her partner to the driver. 

Don Chiavarone answered the door of the apartment he’d rented and gave Soko a warm smile as he told her to come in.  “It’s nothing fancy,” he told her as she took off her shoes in the entryway, “But it’s not far from the hospital.”  She didn’t correct him that it was larger than any apartment she’d ever lived in when she was still living in Japan.

Toko was sitting in the living room at a table with a ball of yarn and knitting needles in her hands.  She didn’t look as pale as she had the last time Soko saw her.  “Soko,” she said, smiling like she might cry as she left the yarn and the needles on the table.  Soko didn’t refuse the hug she was offered, letting Toko pull her into her arms.  “It’s good to see you again.”

“You, too.”

“You look exhausted.”

“Came straight from the airport.”  She glanced at the yarn.

“I’m learning how to knit,” Toko said with a giggle, “I’ve always wanted to, I’ve just never had the time.”  Unspoken went any mention of the doctor’s visit she’d doubtlessly had earlier that day.  Soko’s eyes wandered from the pamphlets and books stacked on the table with titles such as _Your Treatment Procedure_ and _The Road to Recovery_ , choosing to overlook them for now, in favor of the tangled mess of yarn beside them.  “I just started an hour ago,” her partner said sheepishly, and she managed a laugh.  “Tell me how you’ve been.”  She took Soko’s hands into her own and led her to the couch.  “Tell me about Xanxus.”

“What about him?”

“Anything.”

Soko started rambling, telling her how the Varia were at meetings and the way Xanxus would throw things at Squalo, and Toko listened with a smile, occasionally nodding or making a comment.  This was new to them both; never had they been apart long enough to have so much to talk about at once.  Soko didn’t realize how long she’d been talking until her throat started to hurt, and Toko laughed at the confused look on her face.

“It sounds like you’ve had quite a time,” she said gently.

“You’ll see,” Soko promised, “When you get back, you’ll have to meet them, too.  Lussuria would like you.”

Toko’s smile became pained.  “Ah,” she said, and Soko ran out of momentum suddenly, no longer knowing what to say.  Toko saw the look on her face and quickly amended, “I do plan on coming back to Italy.  It just might be a while, that’s all.”

The air became tense between them as Soko began to hear the words Toko wasn’t saying, all of the words that Toko had tried to say but never had because of the way she would talk down to her for it.

Soko felt guilt pressing down on her shoulders as Toko tried shifting the topic again.  Don Chiavarone watched them both from the kitchen, gaze sympathetic.

*

Toko offered for Soko to stay another night, but the younger of the two shook her head and said that she needed to get back to work. 

“Toko,” she said from the bathroom door, watching her partner brush her hair in the mirror, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Everything I’ve ever said to you.”  Toko paused, glancing at her in the mirror.  “You used to ask me if I thought about leaving, and I always treated it like it was something foolish.  But I don’t think it is anymore.”

“Soko, I’m not going anywhere.  I know you saw the books, but there’s no reason to convince yourself that I’m not going to make it.”

“I’m not necessarily talking about dying,” Soko said as she turned to meet her eyes, “If you could go somewhere else, do something else, would you?”

She didn’t answer.

“I’m telling myself that you _are_ going to make it,” she said firmly, “And I’m telling myself what you’ve been trying to tell me for years, which is that you’d rather be someone else.  After this is all over, it’s going to be the perfect opportunity to start over, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to come back for me.  Or that I can’t make it without you.  I never realized just how much I’ve relied on you before.  It must have been hard on you.”

“Soko—!”

“So if there comes a time when you have to make a choice, then I want you to live for yourself.”  Soko paused to breathe, her voice wavering.  “Not for me, not for Don Chiavarone, but for yourself.  For eating good food and wearing nice clothes and learning how to knit, anything that you’ve ever wanted to do.  I want you to live for that.”

Soko covered her face with her hands, and Toko set her brush down and drew closer, pulling at her arms.  “It’s okay,” she choked, “You can cry in front of me.”

“So can you,” Soko told her, and for the first time, she was not only the one holding onto someone, but the one that someone was holding onto.

*

When she walked back into the empty apartment, Soko started scrubbing the counters without knowing what came over her.  She cleaned the tables and dusted the shelves and rearranged her magazines a dozen times until she ran out of things to organize.  She thought about calling Toko, but wasn’t sure if she wanted to bother her, and stared at the dial screen on her phone for another minute.

She had promised herself on the plane ride home that she would keep herself busy.  Toko had decided that she would make the best of her situation, and Soko knew she needed to do the same, especially if she wanted to prove that she could survive without her partner’s help.  But she didn’t want to be alone right now.  She’d never once thought she’d be upset about not having many friends, but suddenly, as she opened her contacts list, she realized just how limited of a social life she had.

It wasn’t her occupation’s fault; Toko maintained a circle of acquaintances throughout Europe whom would occasionally call to see how she was doing, or send a picture of family members or new furniture they’d purchased.  It wasn’t the same as the relationship between the two of them, but at least there were people that Toko could distract herself with.  Soko’s contact list was made up almost entirely of business associates, mostly the Vongola and his allies or her former family that she’d left behind in Hokkaido, names and numbers she’s never removed for reasons she never really thought too hard on.

Scrolling down the list, she reached the end of the alphabet, saw Xanxus’ name, and knew that she shouldn’t.

She did anyway.

The phone rang only a couple times before someone who was definitely not Xanxus answered, and she realized that the number Don Vongola had given her was almost definitely for the Varia headquarters rather than anyone’s personal cell phone.  She felt almost foolish for assuming otherwise. 

“Hello?” the man on the other end prompted when she still didn’t answer.

“It’s Belladonna,” she said, the name sounding strange to her now.  She paused.  “Could I speak with Xanxus?” she asked uneasily, still unsure if this was a good idea.  When she heard an affirmative response and a click, and then a dial tone as she was patched through to the man’s office, she knew it was too late to worry.

“What?” he answered, sounding as irritated as she expected.

“Ah…it’s me.”

He paused.  “What do you want?”

That was a good question.  Soko honestly wasn’t sure, and was having trouble coming up with anything as she toyed with the salt shaker on the table in front of her. 

“Weren’t you in Japan?” he asked, “Visiting your partner?”

Either Don Vongola was uncharacteristically talkative lately, or Xanxus had been asking about her.  It was frustrating to her that both seemed equally unlikely.  “I got back today,” she said.  Xanxus didn’t speak, apparently content to hold the silence as long as he needed to.  There were times she really hated his resolve.  “It’s just…I came home, and there’s nobody here.”

Xanxus didn’t say anything for a while.  Soko practically held her breath waiting for a response.  “Are you….”  He trailed off, and she suddenly realized what she’d said and what it sounded like.

“No,” she snapped, “I am not propositioning you.”  She could imagine him smirking as he leaned back in his chair.

“Really?” he asked, sounding incredibly disbelieving, “So this is just a personal call?  You just wanted to know how I was doing?”

“Not exactly.”  Soko was quickly losing confidence.  “Never mind, it wasn’t important.” 

Before she could pull the phone away from her ear, she heard Xanxus growl warningly, “Don’t you dare hang up on me.”  Not interested in making him any more irritable, she waited.  “And don’t tell me it’s not important when you bothered to call.”

Soko hesitated for a long minute.  “There’s nobody here,” she said again, “Toko is in Japan with Don Chiavarone, and I don’t exactly have a lot of friends.”

He paused.  “So does she…?”

“Yes.”

There was a long silence and Soko wondered if he was waiting for her to speak, but he broke it first.  “You know, some of us actually work full-time for Vongola and don’t have the luxury to just show up when called and never have to take care of paperwork or attend regular family meetings,” he said, and she swallowed the lump building in her throat, “I don’t have time to leave just to drive downtown and see you today.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So I expect to see you in my office no later than twenty minutes from now.

Soko almost spoke, then paused.  “Wait.  What?”

“I know you heard me.”

It must have been acceptable for him to hang up on her, because the line went dead after that, and Soko was left staring at her phone in confusion.  She then leapt to her feet to get changed after realizing that it took almost half an hour to get to the Varia headquarters.

*

“You’re late,” Xanxus said without even glancing up from the papers on his desk.

Soko helped the door shut silently behind her and took the only other chair in his office.  He continued working long after she sat down, and she began to fidget in the silence, wondering if he intended to ignore her the entire time.  As the minutes ticked by, Soko glanced around the office, which was very sparsely decorated.  There was a lot she didn’t know about him, most of which she was unwilling to go poking around for and he was unwilling to talk about.  She hadn’t necessarily been expecting anything to change after their first time at the resort in Hokkaido, but as time had passed, she’d started to wish they would.

“This,” Xanxus said finally, apparently finding a convenient stopping point as he glanced up at her, “Has got to stop.” 

She stared at him.

“When I told you to call your partner,” he said, “I thought you’d spend time with her and get yourself figured out.”

“What about me do I need to figure out?” she asked.

He held her gaze for a long minute.  “What are you going to do after Toko is gone?”

“She won’t—!”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”  He watched her expression shift and her shoulders slump.  “I know someone who’s in the wrong line of work when I see them, and your partner couldn’t be worse suited as a hit man.  She’s talkative and personable and….”

“Kind,” Soko added glumly. 

Xanxus paused and pushed his papers aside, no longer pretending that he’d actually get any work done.  “Right.”

“I already had this talk with her.”

“To convince her that you’d be fine,” he said, leaving off his disbelief that she actually would be.  “My point,” he continued, “Is that there’s no reason for any hit man to work completely alone anymore.  You have ties to a powerful family, and you might as well use them.”

“You think I could work with you?”

“I don’t work with anyone,” he corrected, “That last hit on the Bencivenni went the way it did because you needed someone to babysit you, which is not something I intend to do again.  Your aim is still sharp, and when you’re not wallowing in your own depression, you’re actually pretty capable.  Potentially, you could make a good Varia assassin.”

She held her breath, waiting for the “but” that was so clearly coming.

“I say ‘potentially’ because I would never recruit you the way you are now,” Xanxus said, “You would be a danger to yourself and your team, getting distracted and having emotional breakdowns in enemy territory.  That, and I’m not completely sure you even qualify.”

Soko tried not to be offended.

“I’m sure Vongola’s got room for you somewhere, though.  You have plenty of options, at least.”

“What do I need to do to qualify?”

In the following silence, Xanxus’ eyes narrowed and he watched her very closely.  He leaned forward over his desk.  “Training, for one thing,” he said, “There’s a difference between being good and being Varia quality.  We don’t accept just anyone.”  He wasn’t smirking or even scowling in annoyance; he looked solemn.  “You can’t change your mind halfway through.”  It was his way of asking if she was sure.

Soko was eager to jump at the chance to dedicate herself to something, especially something difficult enough to take her mind away from everything else for a while, but she knew she’d regret it if she didn’t take the time to think about it first.  “Can I give you an answer in a couple of weeks?” she asked quietly.

Xanxus shrugged.  “I’m not going anywhere.”

 She almost smiled, remembering Toko echoing the same words, because Xanxus sounded so much more confident when he said it.  It didn’t make him any better—it only meant that this was the life he had chosen and he had no regrets.  Now she had to make her peace, as well.

“Now get out,” he snapped, “I still have work to do,” and Soko did so with a small, appreciative smile.

The first thing she did when she got home was book another flight back to Japan.


	16. Chapter 16

Soko stayed somewhere else and didn’t go with Toko on the chemotherapy appointments, and seeing her for only a span of a few hours every day made it easier to see the changes.

In the first week, Toko was constantly on-edge, spending a lot of time in the bathroom and brushing her hair silently, just looking at herself.  Don Chiavarone told Soko that he’d looked into family counseling, and she had looked back at him in confusion, saying that none of them were related.

He shook his head.  “Soko, when you look at her, do you really not feel like she’s your family?”

The concept of _family_ , mafia and otherwise, had become a tangled mess since she’d first begun working for the Vongola, what with the way Don Vongola treated it as both simultaneously, and really meant it.  Soko glanced through the open bathroom doorway from across the upstairs bedroom, watching Toko stare motionless at her reflection.  “No,” she sighed, “I do feel that way.  I still don’t see how you can possibly convince the hospital that we’re all related.”

“I’d find a way,” he said softly.

Soko saw it then when she looked at Don Chiavarone’s eyes as he gazed at Toko and wondered why she hadn’t seen it before.  Maybe she had been projecting herself and her extremely-yet-not-at-all complicated relationship with Xanxus onto her partner, but she saw it as Toko looked back and met his eyes.  She saw that there was nothing complicated there.

Don Chiavarone loved her, and Toko loved him.

Soko looked between them, feeling almost as if she didn’t belong there.  She felt like it had snuck up on her, but in hindsight, she thought of the time they spent together and the things they must have told one another, things Toko hadn’t even told her yet.  Whatever they saw in each other after that first meeting with Don Vongola must have been something they had both been looking for.

Soko saw it at last, and inwardly, she made a couple decisions all at the same time.

*

In the second week, strips of hair began to come out as Toko brushed, and she began to pin it up into buns.  It didn’t help; she would still pull some out every time she let it loose again.  It was odd what really struck a person.  Soko had noticed when her partner had stopped denying what had happened to her and decided to fight it, a bravado that had lasted longer that Soko thought she would be able to keep up in the face of adversity.

But when her hair began to come out, she lost her momentum again.  “It’s normal with the chemotherapy,” she’d said quietly, sitting on the living room couch next to Don Chiavarone as he stroked her hand and Soko sat across from them.  “I was just kind of hoping that, maybe, I’d be lucky enough that it wouldn’t happen to me.”  She tried to smile bitterly, and couldn’t even manage that.  “I’m just not lucky, I guess.”

“It’s not really uncommon,” Soko reassured her. 

“It’s stupid,” Toko mumbled, “There are so many other things that have gone poorly in my life, and this…this is what tips the apple cart.  It’s so stupid.  So stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” 

Her partner wiped at her face.  “It’s okay if you want to laugh at me.”

“Toko, I’m not going to laugh at you.”

And then she collapsed, sobbing, reaching for Soko’s hand across the table between them and holding it to her chest like it was keeping her from drowning, and Don Chiavarone held onto her other hand looking lost.  Soko fought the pain in her chest at seeing her like this and leaned forward to rub circles in Toko’s back.

“I won’t laugh,” she promised, and said it again and again, voice falling into a whisper as Toko sniffled. 

A few days later, Soko heard a low buzzing sound when she let herself in.  When she peered through the bathroom door, she found Toko seated in front of the mirror as Don Chiavarone stood behind her, shaving off the rest of the thinning strands.  When he was done, she looked up at herself, nodded once, and then turned to him for a hug.

Soko took her to a wig shop the same day.  Her partner was wearing the soft wrap Don Chiavarone had gone out to buy the same day her hair first started falling out, and didn’t make eye contact with anyone in the store.

“If you’re feeling adventurous,” Soko joked, holding up an unnaturally bright red wig, “You could try something different.”

Toko almost smiled.

“How about this one?” she asked, drifting towards the back rows of human hair wigs and one in particular that was almost Toko’s color.  She took the wig head wearing it off of the shelf and held it up to her partner.  “What do you think?”

Toko shrugged uneasily.

“Okay, so not this one.”  Soko put it back and heard her partner mumble something.  “What?”

“Sorry,” she said.  Soko hesitated only a moment before she took Toko’s hands in her own and squeezed, just like she remember her partner doing to her before, small, intimate touches to remind her that she wasn’t alone.  “I can’t believe you’re here,” Toko said, “In a wig shop, putting up with me.”

“If you think I have something else I’d rather be doing right now, you’re wrong.”  She paused.  “You’re my friend, Toko.  Even though we’re not related, I feel like you’re family, too.  I’m sorry I haven’t said that before.”

At that, she finally drew a smile out of her.  “Thank you,” she whispered.

“I don’t want you to worry about anything other than yourself,” Soko said, “Focus on getting better.  Don’t worry about Don Chiavarone or me or your job, just yourself.”

“You’ve found something.”  _Something without me,_ was the meaning behind it.

Soko shrugged.  “Maybe.”

Her partner’s smile widened.  “You have.  You look determined.  I haven’t seen you so excited.”

“So what about you?  Have you found something?”  Toko looked down shyly, and Soko rolled her eyes.  “I’m asking to be polite, not because I don’t know.  You and Don Chiavarone couldn’t possibly be closer.”

“You noticed?”

“Look, I may be completely socially inept, but….”  She smiled.  “You’ve taught me a lot, so it all evens out, I guess.”

Five wigs later, they finally found the right one, and Toko went back home crying, but not because she was sad.

*

“Soko,” Don Vongola greeted as she pushed through the meeting room doors.  “You wanted to speak with me?”  She nodded and took a seat close to him.

“We’re no longer in any listings, right?” she asked, “Only you and former clients can hire us?”

He nodded.

“Could you dissolve Belladonna completely and remove Toko from the personnel files?”

Don Vongola paused, meeting Soko’s eyes. 

“I’ll stay,” she said, “But I want to be registered as an independent entity from her.”

“That’s fine,” he told her, “I can do that.  Are you sure you want to work alone, though?  There is a small network of assassins within the Vongola, not to mention the Varia squad.  If you don’t want to take on a mission alone, I’m sure—”

“Pardon me,” she said quietly, “But most assassins prefer to work alone, and I’d rather learn to adjust, anyway.  Regarding the Varia, however, I was wondering if you could give me some information about the requirements for joining.”

He was visible taken aback at that.  “Soko, you can’t exactly apply for the Varia squad,” he said, and she shook her head.

“An invitation was extended to the hit man I used to be,” she said, and Don Vongola smiled.

“Xanxus personally, I presume.”

“Yes.”

“He hates seeing talent go to waste.”

Soko laughed.  “He certainly didn’t make it sound that way.”  Not that he needed to.  Though she was still far from having Xanxus figured out, she had begun to understand the meaning behind some of his actions.

“In that case,” Don Vongola said, “I’ll have all of the information for you later this afternoon.”  He paused.  “Not that I don’t think you’re capable, but the Varia have some very particular requirements, and some that simply depend from case to case.  This might be a stressful process.”

“Don Vongola,” she said, smiling weakly, “After these last few months, I’ll laugh at whatever’s thrown at me.”


	17. Chapter 17

Despite her restlessness, Soko spent many of the following nights in, sitting on the couch with a textbook spread out in front of her and Toko on the phone.  “You don’t have to call every night,” her partner said with a laugh, “I don’t want to keep you up too late.  You have another test tomorrow, don’t you?”

“I’d be up late anyway,” she said, “I already spoke English and Italian well, so those weren’t a problem, and French is next.  I’m more worried about Spanish.”

“Spanish?” Toko laughed, “A lot of the European languages have a lot in common with one another.  You already know Italian, so Spanish shouldn’t be a problem.  I’d be more worried about Russian, but maybe that’s just because I don’t know it, either.”

Soko smiled a little to herself.  “Toko, do you remember how we met?”

There was a short pause on the other end, and then a sigh.  “Yes,” she said, and Soko could hear the smile in her voice.

“It was France, right?” she asked, “Helping the Montel organization settle an inheritance dispute?”

“Except it didn’t start that way,” Toko said, “It wasn’t that long ago, but I suppose it does feel like it was.”

“I haven’t thought about it in a while.”

“Really?”  Her partner laughed.  “I think about it all the time.”

Soko wasn’t studying anymore, and gently shut her textbook.  “Probably because I was pointing a gun at you.”

“So was I,” Toko said, “But I don’t think you were scared.”

“Of course not.”

There was a short pause.  “There it is,” her partner murmured, “That’s how we’re different.”

Her smile fell.  “I wasn’t trying to make fun of you.”

“I didn’t interpret it that way.  I know your choices were limited, but you still excel at what you do.  I’ve never had the same composure; I’m just good at pretending I do.”

“That’s a good thing,” Soko said gently, “It just means you can still do other things with your life.”  She hesitated.  “You’ve never told me how exactly you became a hit man.”

There was a long silence, and she thought Toko might have hung up until she heard her say, “You’ve changed so much, Soko.  I used to really worry about you, but I know you’re going to be alright.”

“Thanks,” she said.

When the line went dead, she didn’t feel like studying anymore but pushed herself to do it anyway.  She couldn’t afford to fail.

*****

The sun hadn’t quite risen over the Italian countryside when the first few shots echoed down the Vongola’s private shooting range.  Soko huffed when she saw she’d missed the center of the target by a few inches, but overall felt more confident.  As long as she stayed focused, she easily fell back into her old routine; breathe, tense, relax, aim, fire.  She couldn’t think about Toko, either, which she’d found to be more difficult than she wanted to admit, so she began to compartmentalize, ‘live in the moment,’ as her partner might’ve said.

She had just taken off her earmuffs when she heard the door open behind her, and turned to see Reborn.  “ _Buongiorno_ ,” she greeted, “ _Quanto tiempo._ ”

He offered a smile.  “You’re here early.”

“I prefer to come when it’s quiet,” she said.

Reborn glanced down the shooting range to the target and the ring of bullet holes clustered around the center.  “You seem to be doing well.”

“This is the least of my worries,” she admitted, “I have more proficiency tests coming up than I can count on one hand.”

“Ah, that’s right,” he said thoughtfully, “Varia has a seven-language requirement for all members.  How many did you know already?”

“Four, counting my native language,” Soko said, “My Italian used to be quite poor, but I’ve had time to improve.”   Turning on the safety and holstering her gun, she made her way to the door.

“You’ve changed quite a bit,” Reborn told her over his shoulder, “I doubt the woman I once approached would have spoken to me in such a friendly tone.”

She smiled shyly.  “I’ve heard that a lot lately.  But don’t get used to it; a month working for Varia, and I’ll probably turn into a temperamental asshole like the rest.”

“By ‘the rest,’ you mean your potential boss?”

She laughed, albeit nervously.  “Yeah.” 

*

Soko had called Xanxus “boss” before, but it had been almost affectionate, like a joke.  She knew the dynamics of their relationship would have to change now, though.  She would come to see him the way she saw her colleagues from her father’s organization—as a superior, one whom she couldn’t speak to the way she did now, much less hold any feeling for.

Toko’s diagnosis had forced her to face and acknowledge the deep, familiar bond she had with her partner, something she had previously believed good assassins never admitted.  And now, as something threatened her current way of life, she wondered if it was time to acknowledge the feelings she held for Xanxus that she’d tried to pretend weren’t there. 

She’d felt a number of things for Xanxus since meeting him—frustration, annoyance, genuine distaste at times—and they tended to resurface from time to time.  But something had snuck up on her somewhere between their first meeting and the present, and while she hesitated to call it “love” or anything resembling what Toko and Don Chiavarone had, she knew it was important.

Soko didn’t plan on throwing herself to her knees and declaring her feelings to him, but she knew there were things they needed to talk about, and as she steadied herself to knock on the door to Xanxus’ office, she ran an imaginary conversation in her head, all of the things she wanted to clear up. 

And then the door swung open on its own, and Xanxus’ dark eyes were glaring at her.  She almost stumbled backwards in shock.  “I was warned that your car was valet parked ten minutes ago,” he said, “I know it doesn’t take that long to walk from the front gate to here.”

She wasn’t quite as aggravated at losing her train of thought as she might have been otherwise, since she doubted she would have been able to hold onto it with him staring her down like that.  “I wanted to talk to you,” she said, trying to sound professional.  Xanxus didn’t move to let her in.

“Shouldn’t you be studying for your next European Language test?” he asked, “Which, if I recall correctly, is scheduled just a few hours from now?”

“It is,” she said.

“You had to retake the Russian one.”

“I know.”

“Twice.”

“I know,” she said firmly. 

 “So what do you want?”

“To talk,” Soko repeated, exasperated, but he finally turned away to go back to his desk and she shut the door behind her before going to stand in front of him.  She paused, and could just see his patience evaporating.  “I’m trying to think of a way to phrase this that won’t offend you.”

“If you have to think about it this long, there probably isn’t one.”

She nodded in agreement.  “Why did you decide to become…intimate with me?”

He stiffened, visibly surprised by the question, but recovered quickly.  “What do you mean, ‘why?’”

“I’m not going to start questioning your motives for everything.  You don’t have to answer.  I just wanted to ask.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then leaned forward.  “Why don’t you tell me why you agreed to it?”

Soko shifted her weight between her legs, uncomfortable.  “Because I wanted to, I suppose.”

“There you go.”  He raised a brow.  “Are you going to tell me where this is coming from?”

“A lot has changed for me in the last couple of months,” she said, “And even more big changes are right around the corner—you’re going to be my boss.  Not just for a mission, but for the rest of my career.”

Xanxus looked like he’d lost interest in the conversation, head resting on one of his hands as he thumbed through papers on his desk.  “Are you going somewhere with this?”

“We obviously won’t be sleeping together anymore.”

His hand froze, hovering over the next paper in the stack, and he looked up.  “Obviously?” he echoed, “And why is that obvious?”

Soko stared, gaze moving up to meet him as he stood from his desk.  “Because a subordinate shouldn’t sleep with their boss,” she said quietly.

“Oh?”  He made his way around the desk, eyes narrow.  Soko took an instinctive step back.  “I don’t believe Don Vongola has any rules against it.”

“What about you?” she asked, about to back away a little further when he caught her wrist and pulled her closer. 

“I don’t, either.”  His other hand fell to her hip.

“We’re in your office,” she said weakly.

“Then you’d better make sure the door’s locked.”

“You’re doing this on purpose.  I wanted to talk about—!”

“No.” 

Soko fell silent when Xanxus closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers.  She realized, as she let her eyes shut and counted her heartbeats, that of the two of them, it was Xanxus who still wasn’t ready.

“I know you want to talk,” he said, “And as your boss, I am ordering you not to, because I don’t want to right now.”

Soko held onto him, knowing he was ready to move on, but she took a moment to breathe in his scent and think about how much they had in common, and how that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.  “You’re not my boss yet,” she whispered with a smile.

Xanxus was quiet for a minute, glaring down at her, before he wordlessly began tugging at her clothes.

*

“Look,” Toko said, and held up a purple scarf, “I made this since the last time you saw me.”

“Wow.”  Soko stroked the yarn, enjoying the softness on her fingers.  “It’s really nice.”

“I want you to have it.”  Her partner added, “I made it for you,” before she could argue.  “Any news?”

Soko folded the scarf over her lap before putting it into her bag.  “Actually, yes,” she said, “I’m now at least competent in seven languages.”

“That’s excellent,” Toko beamed, “Then that means…?”

She nodded.

“Soko, this is a great accomplishment,” her partner said, taking her hands into her own, “Why don’t you seem more excited?”

“I was more relieved than anything,” Soko said, “But there’s something else that I have to tell you that’s more important.”

“Go on.”

“The assassin unit Belladonna has been officially dissolved.”

Toko’s smile fell. 

“The name has been removed from all listings, including the Vongola database, and personnel files have been moved or destroyed.”

Her partner was speechless, staring at her in shock.

“In other words,” Soko said, “You can do whatever you want with your life now.  You’re free.” 

Nobody spoke for a moment.  If she hadn’t been certain of her conviction, Soko might have worried that she’d done the wrong thing.  But then, the tears came all at once, and Toko squeezed Soko’s hands tight, looked into her eyes and whispered, “Thank you,” over and over again, until Soko began to cry, too. 

They both knew what this meant; maintaining their relationship now that Toko was a civilian would be dangerous for her.  Soko was letting her go; both as a partner and as a friend. 

Ultimately, though, Soko decided, what was most important to her was living without regrets.  And she would never be able to forgive herself if Toko couldn’t spend the next few years deciding exactly how she wanted to live her life. 


	18. Chapter 18

Soko hadn’t made it more than ten steps through the entryway of the Varia headquarters when Lussuria managed to find her and throw his arms in the air, crying, “Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” she said with an embarrassed laugh.

“I tried to talk the boss into throwing a party, but I couldn’t quite convince him,” he sighed, and she followed as he started to walk down the hall.  “We haven’t talked in some time.  How have you been?”

“Well enough.”

“And your former partner?” he asked, lowering his voice as though it was sensitive information.

“Don’t know,” Soko said with a shrug, “Mailed the last of her things to an address Don Chiavarone gave me the other day.  He said he’d make sure it got to her.”

“Hm.”  He smiled knowingly.  “You miss her, don’t you?”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t,” she said quietly, “But we’ve got to worry about ourselves instead of each other from now on.”  They slowed to a stop in front of the meeting room and Soko took a deep breath.  Lussuria offered a reassuring smile before pushing the doors open and going in first. 

She saw they were the last to arrive—Xanxus was at the head of the table with his officers seated on either side.  Unlike the last time she took the seat beside Lussuria, the others didn’t ignore her as an outsider, and she became acutely aware of all of the eyes on her. 

“Voi,” Squalo called with a crooked grin, “How’s it feel to be Varia?”

 “She’s a member in name alone until she makes her first kill under our banner,” Belphegor snickered.

Soko was about to say something—she wasn’t sure what, maybe an objection or something to change the subject—but Xanxus interrupted.  “Good news,” he said, “Your first mission is in six hours.”

“Six hours?” Soko repeated, “I hadn’t heard anything from Don Vongola.”

“You wouldn’t have; mission-critical information from the Don is relayed to the head of the squad rather than the subordinates,” Leviathan reminded her.  It was jarring, no longer being in charge of her own appointments, but she knew she’d have to get used to it. 

“The target is Laverne Dupont,” Xanxus said, and a photograph was passed down the table.  Soko was given pause when she heard the name, certain she’d heard it somewhere before, but didn’t recognize the man in the picture.  He was older, hair graying with many creases across his face marking years of worry.  “Intelligence officers found him holed up in Paris with some impressive protection.”  He paused, surveying the room.  “This kind of job is below what we normally do, but Don Vongola insists that failure is not an option.”

“The prince is busy already,” Belphegor said almost immediately, quickly followed by Lussuria agreeing, saying he also had a contract to take care of that would interfere with the new mission’s time frame.  Soko’s eyes went from each of the officers as they prepared an excuse as she caught on to what was happening.

“I can take on this mission,” Leviathan said, but Lussuria frowned.

“No, you can’t,” he said, “Your squad’s headed west in twelve hours.”  He smiled brightly and turned to Squalo.  “So I guess it’s decided.”

“Hold it right there,” the swordsman growled, “I have better things to do than take on some shitty mission nobody else wants.”

“But your squad is the only one without any previous obligations,” Belphegor pointed out, sounding far too pleased with himself, “So you really don’t.”

“Since that’s decided,” Xanxus said over Squalo’s protesting, _“Voiii!”_ and the other officers stood to leave, “Here’s the blueprint for Dupont’s hideout.”  His eyes flew to Soko as soon as she scooted her chair back.  “And where do you think you’re going?” he demanded, “You’re in his squad.”  Embarrassed, she remained seated, and Lussuria gave a small wave and shouted, “Good luck!” from the doorway as he left.

“Nobody told me that,” she said.

“I hadn’t decided until now.”  His attention returned briefly to Squalo.  “I don’t care what you do or how you do it, just make sure you don’t screw this up,” he said and then left the table as well.  Soko stared as he left, hoping for a little more explanation, but none ever came.  He didn’t spare a single glance back before the door to the meeting room shut again, leaving her and Squalo alone.

He was obviously frustrated at being stuck with the mission, silently fuming as he began marking entrances and possible courses on the blueprint.  Soko wasn’t sure what to say, or if she should even say anything, and sat quietly in her chair.  “If you have any ideas, you can speak up,” he snapped, and she looked at the route he’d drawn.

“That looks like a good idea to me,” she said simply.

He nodded, seemingly pleased, and studied the blueprint silently for a moment longer.  “You have it bad for the boss, don’t you?” he asked quietly and her face flushed.  There was another long pause before anyone spoke.  “It’s kind of obvious,” he went on, “And a little surprising.  Most women who take any interest in him lose it after spending time with him.” 

“I can’t imagine why,” she said with a small smile.

“What you do is your business,” he said, glancing at her, “Just make sure it doesn’t get in the way of work.  There are going to be days when he’s just about insufferable, but he’s still your boss.”  Soko listened with a curious expression, honestly not expecting Squalo to be the one to give advice.

“Thank you,” she said, “But I don’t think our relationship is the sort that we’ve invested a lot of personal feelings into.”

He raised a brow in a manner that clearly called her a liar, and she shrunk back a bit.  What she’d said was probably only true of Xanxus—she had invested quite a bit of herself into what she suspected was supposed to a purely physical relationship. 

“I won’t let it get in the way of work,” she said, looking him in the eye and being honest.  If he didn’t believe her, he didn’t say anything else.

*

Soko had never imagined that she’d be wearing a uniform of any kind, but wearing the Varia uniform made her feel a lot less out of place among her squad mates.  Since the job wasn’t large-scale enough to require the entire squad, she only met the four others that Squalo had chosen for it.  Although quiet, they were welcoming and had no trouble accepting her on the mission.

It was after sunset when they arrived.  After the two-hour plane ride, they met with one of Vongola’s own stationed to take them the rest of the way.  “Dupont is lying low with a local organization in one of the member’s homes,” he said, “Security is minimal, and all we really have to worry about are any hired guns in the building.  Intelligence has told us to expect no more than a six, and only three per shift, but be on your guard.  They’re all independent contractors rather than men provided by the local organization, and they’re good at what they do.  There’ll be a shift change shortly after our arrival; Soko will go in first, and we’ll cover the exits until she gives a signal.”

He glanced at her.  “And Soko,” he said, “I know you’re used to delicate procedures under Don Vongola, but if it’s a Varia job, you kill anything that moves.  Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” she nodded.

Their escort’s car stopped halfway on the road to the estate, and Squalo led them off the path and through the trees, their movements covered by night.  Soko could see figures moving in the upper levels of the house past the window, some pacing, some standing still.  It was odd how familiar it seemed to her, but the house—more of a mansion, but on the smaller side—reminded her of a job she’d had before.

Crouching in the bushes near the back porch, the squad came to a complete stop, and Soko knew it was her turn.  She spotted a window on the upper level where the lights were out and quickly made her way over to a garden lattice fixed to the side of the house.  Edging around the roof to the window, she glanced back once at her squad, and then reached for the window.

It was unlocked, which worried her a little.  Dupont had been living under the radar for almost a year now, or so she’d heard from her squad mates, but if he was still hiring bodyguards, then she saw no reason for him to not be locking his windows.  Hesitantly, she pushed it open and slipped inside, keeping her gun at the ready.

She heard the door creak and turned on her heel, keeping her weapon trained on the doorway as it slowly shut, the sliver of light from the hallway vanishing.  One of the assassins hired by Dupont stood there in the shadows where the door had been, mirroring Soko’s stance, finger resting on the trigger.  Soko’s breath caught in her throat at the familiarity; at a house like the one she stood in now, at the name Dupont, at the assassin whom had her in their sights as she did.

An assassin with a black wrap tied around her head that Soko remembered Don Chiavarone buying.

Her former partner stared back at her, eyes glistening with tears that refused to fall.  “Oh God,” she whispered, “I had hoped it wouldn’t be you.”


	19. Chapter 19

Dishes clattered somewhere downstairs and conversation filtered in through the small opening in the doorway.  Soko was tense and completely still, finger on the trigger.  Toko mirrored her stance, her hands steady, and the situation was eerily familiar.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed, alerted to the fact that they were not alone on the upper floors by the sound of muffled footsteps not too far away.  “What the hell is going on here?”

“Why did you come?” Toko shot back, “You don’t recognize the name Dupont?  It really doesn’t ring any bells?”  There was a tense silence and she gave a sad smile.  “You never did pay attention to the details back then, did you?  All you really cared about was the kill.  I could never compartmentalize so well.” 

“Toko, what—?”

The footsteps of the other gunmen came closer.  Toko’s eyes narrowed.  “You have five seconds to shoot me,” she murmured, “If you don’t, I’m going to alert the entire household.”

“Why?” Soko demanded.

Her former partner’s eyes softened, but she didn’t lower her weapon.  “Because one of us is supposed to die here tonight, and I have no choice.  Make a decision.  One.”

“Toko, please,” she begged, “Just explain it to me.  Like when you used to explain job details.  Who is Dupont?”

“Two.”

“Neither of us have to die.  There are hardly any other hit men here.  We could clear the house out by ourselves.”

“Three.”

Soko fell silent, unable to believe what was happening right in front of her.  Toko wasn’t faltering the way she was; her voice was even and she kept her sharp gaze on her until she reached four.

“Goddamit, do something!” she hissed, “This is what you’re good at, what you’ve always been good at.  If you don’t shoot me, you’re going to die, Soko.  Do you understand?”

She couldn’t move.  Her hands were ready, fingers poised, but she could only think of their partnership and friendship, the bond Soko had denied for so long. 

Toko wasn’t dressed for a job—she dressed casually, a sweater hanging around her shoulders and a long skirt waving around her ankles.  Soko knew something was wrong; her partner was more practical than that.  She would only wear something like that if she’d had to leave in a hurry.

Months ago, Soko may have hesitated only a moment before she accepted what Toko said, but everything had changed for her recently; her way of life, her world view, her relationships.  Now, she couldn’t even think about killing her, even if it meant she might die instead.  She smiled bitterly.  This was the kind of death she’d dreamed of once, the kind where an old enemy came back and interrupted any kind of comfortable life she may have started living.

If she had to die, she would rather someone she know and love be the one to do it.

“I can’t,” Soko said hoarsely, and lowered her gun to her side.  “I’m sorry.”

Toko looked horrified at her decision, and tears rolled down her face.  “No,” she whispered, “ _I’m_ sorry.”

And then she fired.

*

Four years ago, the beginnings of an inheritance dispute stirred the waters of the underworld and mafia politics in France.  At first, it was only quiet rumblings, disagreements that the current head of the Montel family’s son should really inherit the title of Don when there were more clearly capable men waiting in the wings.  Though the tension mounted, it never threatened to tear the family apart, until Don Montel’s infant son went missing in the night.

Soko happened to be in Paris that night, the latest in a long line of temporary homes along her journey away from Japan.  She had made a name for herself by then, though she tended to refuse mafia-related jobs due to the politics involved.  If she hadn’t been in town already, she would have turned the offer down right away.

But her client, Dupont, had offered a much larger reward than she was accustomed to, and she was planning on leaving for Italy soon.  She thought it might not hurt to have a bit more money in the bank before then.  She never met Dupont in-person, which was regular practice for her in those days, but they’d communicated briefly over the internet, and he’d faxed her the details—the Montel’s son was missing and they wanted bloody vengeance on the man they thought had done it, one of their own.

So she left quickly, snuck into the target’s home by climbing a sturdy garden lattice on the back of the house and ended up in what looked like a nursery with pastel wallpaper and a rocking chair.  The cradle was empty, and Soko had just barely heard a noise behind her and reacted quickly enough to turn, gun at the ready, and see another hit man standing behind the door to the room as she nudged it shut with her foot.

She was taller than Soko and a bit older, hair long and blond, tied into a bun.  In one hand, she held her gun, finger at the trigger.  In her free arm, she cradled a sleeping baby.  “Let’s settle this quietly,” she had told her in French, “He’s sleeping.”  When Soko didn’t reply or move, the other woman had frowned.  “Do you understand me?” she’d asked. 

She didn’t quite understand, but that was besides the point—Soko wasn’t the type to talk to anyone on a job, much less an enemy.

“Do you speak English?” the blond tried, apparently determined to have a conversation.  Soko debated shooting her right then and there, and every moment she didn’t she tried to figure out why she was hesitating.  Surprise, maybe, she’d thought.  She’d never met a hit man who was so talkative.  “No?  How about—?”

“I speak English,” Soko told her bitingly, and she’d smiled.

“Oh, good.  I was worried we wouldn’t be able to talk this misunderstanding through.”

Soko stared.  “Misunderstanding?”

“Naturally.”  When the baby made a noise, she hushed him and rocked her arm.  Soko kept an eye on the hand that held her gun, which didn’t move once, and her eyes never left her.  “Doesn’t this seem odd to you?” she asked, “Inheritance squabbles usually only crop up when an heir can’t be produced, or when heir have gotten old enough to prove themselves incapable.  Not only that, the man who supposedly disposed of the Montel’s heir was already dead when I got here.”

“You are lying,” Soko said, “You killed him.”

“What would I have to gain from that?” the woman asked, “I’m here to protect him from assassins hired by his boss, a fear that was apparently valid.”

“What?”  Soko didn’t like where this was going.  She hadn’t been hired by Don Montel but by Dupont, who had never clarified his relation to the family, just that he was interested in seeing someone die.  This had complicated mafia politics written all over it, but with another assassin staring her down and the two of them at a delicate impasse to see who would react more quickly, she knew it was too late to back out.  “So your client is dead?”

“No,” she said, “He didn’t hire me.  Someone else did.”

“Then it was someone called Dupont?”  She was breaking just about every personal rule she had for jobs, including talking and sharing client information, but things had become complicated.

The woman’s smile widened.  “Ah.  You, too, then?  Looks like we have a conspiracy on our hands.”

“I want no part of this,” Soko told her, “If there is another involved, it is someone else’s problem.”

There was a commotion downstairs as the door was slammed open and hurried footsteps came up the stairs.  “I think it’s about to become our problem,” the woman said.

Soko glanced between her and the door.  “I cannot trust you.”

“Then shoot me,” she was told, and watched as the blond gently set the baby in the crib.  Soko stared wordlessly.  When the woman stood up straight again and faced her, she grinned.  “Still alive,” she mused, looking down at herself, “I guess we can work together after all.”

The door to the room flew open, and Soko threw out every rule she had in the interest of survival.

A few minutes later, Soko was leaning against the wall of the upstairs hallway, staring down at the bodies littering the stairs and listening to the baby’s soft wails as the other hit man soothed him.  “Shhh, it’s okay,” she heard her whisper, “It’s okay, it’s okay.  Let’s get you home to your mommy and daddy.”  Poking her head through the nursery door, Soko watched as the same hands that had held a weapon and killed so many were used to hold someone.

Hit men didn’t have children, nor did they tend to be very good with them.  Soko didn’t know who this woman was, but if she was really a hit man, her first impression of her was that she was in the wrong line of work.

“I’m going to speak with Don Montel,” the woman said when the baby was sleeping again, “I’m sure he’ll be very happy to know that his son is alive and well.  Maybe I can get some answers while I’m there.”  She tilted her head.  “You’re more than welcome to join me.”

Soko was silent for a long time, mulling over her options.  “Who are you?” she asked finally, and the woman smiled.

“You didn’t trust me a moment ago.”

“We have both had plenty of chances to kill each other,” Soko said, “And neither of us have taken a single one.”

The woman laughed.  “I like you,” she said, “I really do.  Why don’t you tell me your name first?”

“Soko,” she said, “My name is Soko.”

“Your real name?”

“Real enough.”

The blond woman smiled down at the baby sleeping in her arms.  “I need a new name, too,” she thought aloud, and then looked to Soko.  “People like us should leave our birth names behind, right?”

“Are you going to give me a name or not?” Soko asked impatiently.

“I guess it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t.”  The woman shrugged.  “Well, for now, you can call me….”

*

A shot was fired into the ceiling.

Toko stood back and allowed the other hit men in the house to come running.  Soko’s weapon was confiscated and she was held at gunpoint from all sides, her hands tied behind her back.  Her eyes never left Toko, searching for answers.

“I informed him of the situation,” one of the men said, putting his phone in his pocket.  He looked to Toko.  “But we’re not done yet, Blanchet.  Don’t disappoint Monsieur Dupont.”

She didn’t meet his gaze.  He shut the door behind him.

Soko glanced around her; there were four men in the room, two on either side of her.  She would have to do something to catch them all off guard.  But when she glanced ahead, she saw Toko eyeing her carefully, gun in hand.  Even if she managed to get away from all four of them, Toko was ready to shoot her.  Soko wasn’t sure she would—or could—actually do it, but she didn’t want to take her chances.  

She remembered her captain and the rest of her team waiting outside for her signal and realized that she wasn’t really alone.

She stared hard at Toko, gaze intense, blinked once, and glanced behind her at the curtains wordlessly.  _Please_ , she thought, _just trust me._

Her former partner only stared back for a long moment before she finally walked behind Soko, glanced out the window, and paused a long moment before tugging the curtains shut with a single, harsh movement.  Three of the men around her looked back at the loud noise it made, and Soko moved, throwing her entire body weight against the one who had only glanced over his shoulder.  They went down together, and Soko heard several gunshots fired as she struggled to keep the man’s arm pinned and his gun pointed safely away from her.

A gun went off again behind her, and the man beneath her stilled.  Soko looked back to see the other men on the ground, her former partner’s gaze hard as she tugged the ropes around Soko’s wrists until she smoothed out the knot.  “If you have a plan,” she murmured, “Then you better tell me now, because Dupont is on his way, and he won’t be happy to find his hired guns dead.”

Soko went back to the window, peering around the curtains and searching for her team in the yard.  She saw one of them wave a branch from their hiding spot.  “I came with a team,” she said, “If you want, I can give the signal, and they’ll move in.”

“That won’t do us any good,” Toko muttered, leaning against the wall, “Dupont has been manipulating the mafia for decades.  He has moles in just about every major family, and they spend years working their way up.  He can extort almost anyone with the information he collects this way, causing unrest and collapsing families from the inside out.”  She closed her eyes.  “He has a man in the Chiavarone who’s on Dino’s personal security detail.”

Soko’s eyes widened.  “What?”

“You get it now, right?”  Toko crossed her arms over her chest, looking significantly less confident then before.  “Dupont wants Belladonna gone for good, and my retirement isn’t good enough.  If I didn’t agree to help him, he was going to give the kill order.  The other assassins he hired were average thugs.  They weren’t here to help me kill you; they were here to make sure I didn’t help you and report back to Dupont.”  Soko could see her shoulders start to tremble.  “And when he comes here and sees what’s happened, he’ll know I messed up, that I couldn’t….”

“It’s okay,” Soko told her, “Just explain to the others what happened, and I’m sure Captain can get a hold of someone who can fix this.  Contacting Don Chiavarone directly would be too risky, but maybe alerting Don Vongola—!”

The front door downstairs slammed open. 

Soko glanced at Toko, who looked back at her in panic.  They had about five seconds to come up with something.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It turns out that I had an exam waiting for me on my first Friday back and I originally wasn't going to update at all. But then I realized that I had posted two cliffhanger chapters in a row and we're getting so close to the ending that I thought I might as well try. So here it is! Written in a bit of a hurry, so I haven't proofread yet.

Toko moved first.

She threw herself at Soko, who jumped away from her and back out into the hallway.  She saw who had to be Dupont dressed in a white suit with his hair slicked back, accompanied by three more hired thugs standing down the stairs in the entryway. 

“Monsieur, it is still dangerous here!” Toko called to him, rushing at Soko with a fist raised, “Please don’t get too close!”

Soko ducked out of the way of her first swing, backing herself into the room down the hall as Toko continued to advance on her.  Glancing back, she saw an open window, and jumped onto the sill without hesitating.  Toko faltered for a moment before giving a curt nod, and called over her shoulder as Soko edged out onto the roof, “The assassin is trying to escape.  I’m giving chase,” and audibly turned the safety off of her gun before following Soko outside.

Soko wasn’t sure if Toko was just trying to be convincing or actually making an attempt on her life, so she hurriedly looked for the quickest way down to the ground before deciding on dangling from the edge of the roof and swinging down onto the fence surrounding the porch.  She tried to locate where her teammates were hidden, worried that Squalo was growing impatient and might do something rash, but Toko had just landed on the ground, so she started running a path through the trees.

The first shot Toko fired was dangerously close to Soko’s shoulder, splintering the bark of a tree beside her as she ran, and she unholstered her own weapon despite her unwillingness to use it.  Once the forest became thick enough, the light of the moon only trickled down beneath the leaves overhead, and Soko managed to slip behind a tree and catch her breath.  She heard Toko, slow and cautious, crushing dry grass as she came closer.

“I think we’re far enough away now,” she heard her former partner say, “They might be able to see us from the house, but they can’t hear us.  If there’s anything you want to say, now’s the time.”

“Tell me everything,” Soko said, “Tell me why Dupont wants Belladonna gone.  Tell me how he got you to agree to this.”

Toko hesitated, but eventually began speaking.  She was still wandering the clearing, moving very slowly.  “Laverne Dupont used to do a lot of informant work with the mafia.  He didn’t have loyalty to any particular family, but tried not to step on anyone’s toes.  At some point, he began hiring people to infiltrate many of the families he worked with, and they would cause problems and start rumors that only Dupont had the answers to.”

Soko’s eyes began to adjust to the darkness, and she scanned the forest around her for any sign of her teammates, but she wasn’t sure they’d even moved from where they originally hid themselves. 

“But his clients aren’t stupid,” Toko continued, “Eventually they started putting two and two together, and realized Dupont was playing them.  Now he’s blacklisted by most families.  The problem is he still has a foot in most of those same groups, which has kept him safe until now.”

“What does he want with Belladonna?”

“It’s not necessarily Belladonna he wants anything from.  Remember that job four years ago?  The mess with the Montel family’s inheritance?  He set us up, hoping we’d kill each other without asking too many questions.”

“We would’ve, if you were more like me,” Soko said, smiling a little bitterly.  “Thankfully, you had a little sense.”  Toko didn’t say anything for a moment.  “But why did he do that in the first place?” she urged.

“Revenge,” her former partner said, “You killed his fiancé sometime before you met me.  You probably don’t even remember her.  He pitted me against you because I was almost as skilled as you.  Honestly, though, if it came down to it, I’m not sure I would have won.”

“Now tell me why you’re here.  One more time.”

Toko’s footsteps stilled completely for a moment.  “Because he’s infiltrated the Chiavarone,” she said quietly, “And if I don’t do ask he asks, he’ll have Dino killed.”

Soko hoped someone was listening, because her plan didn’t go much further than that.  Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the tree, listening as Toko began to move again, searching for her.  “I’m sorry,” she told her, “For everything I ever said to you.  About not being a good assassin.”

“That’s nothing for you to apologize for,” Toko replied, “You were just telling me the truth.”  The forest was silent.  Soko couldn’t hear her footsteps anymore, and opened her eyes in panic as she realized she couldn’t tell if it was because she was standing still or sneaking up on her.  “I’m sorry, too, for not having more faith in you.  I treated you like a child much of the time.”

“Only because I acted like one,” Soko said with a small laugh, “So you’ve got nothing to be sorry for, either.”  A light breeze rustled the branches above them, and Soko thought she heard Toko creep closer, covering her movements with the sound.  “You deserve to live,” she told her, “More than me.  Don’t hesitate.”

The wind died, and Toko stopped moving again.  “Don’t say that,” she whispered, “You deserve to live more than me.  You still have your whole life ahead of you.”

“So do you,” Soko argued.

“Maybe.  At least you can be sure.”

“And what’ll I do with it?  Work for an assassination squad until something catches up with me?  You have hobbies and talents and a life outside of all this, Toko.  You could do other things.”

“So could you.”  Her former partner sighed.  “We could be here all night, I bet, arguing about this.”

“Yeah.  We probably could.”

Toko paused.  “Why couldn’t you do it earlier?  You had the perfect chance.”

“I don’t know.  Why couldn’t you?”

“If I kill you, Xanxus will hunt me down to the ends of the earth.”

“He would not,” Soko scoffed.

Toko laughed, very softly, the sound almost sad.  “You’re right,” Soko heard the words much closer than she expected.  When she turned to her right, Toko’s gun was resting between her eyes.  “You can be such a child sometimes.”

Soko held her breath.

Something buzzed.

Toko visibly tensed, glancing between Soko and the pocket of her sweater where her cell phone was going off. 

“Go on,” Soko told her, “I’m not going anywhere.”  She wasn’t sure she could bring herself to move if she wanted to. 

Anxiously, one hand keeping aim on Soko, Toko answered the call.  “Hello?”  Her eyes widened.  “Dino?”

They were close enough that Soko could make out a few words of the exchange, something about one of his guards getting carted off suddenly in the middle of a meeting and a warning about a spy from Don Vongola.  He told her repeatedly to calm down and that everything would be okay.  As she listened, Toko’s aim wavered until her other hand fell to her side and tears formed in her eyes.  “Okay,” she whispered, “Okay.  I won’t.  I promise.”

She met Soko’s gaze when she hung up.  “He said one of his men was apprehended a few minutes ago on Don Vongola’s order.”

Soko smiled.  “Helps to have friends in high places, right?”

Toko wrapped her arms around her, sobbing, “Thank you, thank you,” when a shot rang out among the trees.

Everything seemed to move slowly.  Soko’s former partner gripped her shoulders tightly and shrieked before falling to her knees.  Soko tried to catch her but her hands slicked with blood from where she’d been shot in the back.  Looking around frantically, she saw Dupont and his men standing in the upstairs window looking down at them.

Somewhere, Squalo was yelling, and her teammates converged on their location, one of them checking Toko’s wounds, another firing at the house causing Dupont and the others to flee. Someone shouted orders at her, but Soko couldn’t see or hear anything but red, screaming red anger, and she was charging at the house even as she was ordered to wait.

By the time she reached the front, Dupont and his entourage were already in a car down the road.  Soko gave chase, shooting without taking careful aim, managing to hit one of the tires and send the car swerving down the road and into a tree, the crash igniting a fire somewhere in the front of the vehicle.  Dupont’s men began leaping to safety from the burning wreckage, and Soko didn’t even count, just fired, making making her way closer until she saw Dupont finally get out of the passenger seat.  Her first shot missed and hit his leg.

The fire was reflected in her eyes as she came to stand over him, devoid of thought or feelings beyond the urge to kill.

“I didn’t think it would end like this,” he murmured, more to himself than to her, “I made a monster the night I pitted you two against each other.  I’d hoped to finish what I’d started and correct my mistake.”  He looked up at her, fearful.  “Don’t you want to know why?  Hear my side of the story?” 

She answered by pulling the trigger.

*

Soko was unresponsive for hours, staring down at her hands and Dupont’s blood.  Squalo questioned her all the way back to their hotel, as he was on the phone with Xanxus trying to give a report, and on the way to the hospital where Toko had been taken, but she hardly even looked at him, the memory of Toko’s pained expression fresh in her mind.

She had been so close to freedom.

It was only when Don Chiavarone, trying to muster a smile, came to stand in front of her in the hospital waiting room after visiting Toko, that she managed to speak again.  “How is she?” she whispered.

“She’s stabilizing,” he said, “They think she’s going to be alright.”  His hands were white, clenched into fists at his sides.

“This is my fault,” Soko told him, unable to meet his eye, “It should have been me who was shot.  I should have just let her do it.  I thought I could save her, save both of us, but I was being stupid.  Someone like me has no business saving anyone.  I don’t deserve to call myself Varia, don’t deserve to be here—!”

“Who deserves to be in Varia is my decision, not yours.”

Xanxus stood in the doorway to the waiting room, and Soko reluctantly dragged her eyes up to meet his.  “Do you understsand the meaning of ‘Varia quality?’  It means having the skill to do what would be impossible for anybody else.  Your options, if Squalo’s report is accurate, were to shoot her, let her shoot you, or shoot yourself.  Instead, you created a situation where neither of you had to die.  That is Varia quality.”  He glanced at Don Chiavarone, who only nodded, and disappeared into Toko’s room again.  He took a seat across from her.  “I guess I could talk for hours,” he said, “But if you don’t want to believe me, you won’t.  So I won’t waste my breath.”

Soko shrugged, unable to find her voice.

“But personally,” he went on, “I’m glad you didn’t let her shoot you.  I would have had to hunt her down and kill her myself if you did.”

She glanced at him, and he held her gaze.

“I’m not saying that to make you feel better.  I mean it.”

If she felt a little better, she might have laughed or tried to call him on a lie, but as it was, she just smiled a little. 

“I’m sure I’ll regret saying this later,” he told her, “But I’m ordering you to hurry up and get back to your usual self.  As much as I hate how mouthy you can be, I don’t like it when you’re this quiet, either.  We have things to talk about.”  He stood from his chair.  “Come back to Italy when you’re ready,” he said, and his tone was less of an order than she expected it to be.  Nodding once, she watched him go, and then sat in silence for a while.

It was ironic, really.  She used to love the idea of enemies and revenge, but when that kind of ending finally came to her, she rejected it.  Maybe, she thought, she wasn’t as hopelessly entrenched in the darkness that came with her job.  Though she couldn’t see herself living any other kind of life, she thought it wouldn’t be so bad if she had a caring side, too.

At one time, she would have considered it to be a weakness, but it had saved them both.  In the end, she decided, compassion was a strength.


	21. Chapter 21

A month after the incident with Dupont, Soko left her apartment behind in favor of a small home further out in the country that was closer to the Varia headquarters.   She’d passed her new address along to Don Vongola as an unspoken request for him to forward it to Don Chiavarone so it could find its way to Toko.  Though they’d parted ways for what Soko hoped would truly be the last time, she wanted her former partner and, more importantly, her _friend_ to know where she could find her.

Adjusting to life as a Varia member didn’t take long, because her life really wasn’t that different from before, though she still sometimes found herself placing folded blankets on the couch as if expecting someone to come along and need somewhere to stay.  She wasn’t sure why she did it; Toko wasn’t around anymore, and it wasn’t as if her coworkers were prone to showing up unannounced, or at all, preferring to go out for drinks.  Her superiors kept to themselves for the most part; she didn’t see much of Squalo outside of work.

Soko sat on her front porch in a wooden rocking chair watching the sun rise over the hills, thinking that she must look like the old women from the foreign films she saw as a girl, when her phone rang and she held it up to find a familiar number on the screen.  She answered immediately.  “Boss?”

“Today would be good,” Xanxus told her.

She didn’t need to ask for clarification.  The evening when they both sat in a hospital waiting room in Paris, Xanxus had agreed to talk about their relationship to encourage her out of her slump.  She couldn’t deny that it had helped in the days that followed, but just as she was ready to talk, he suddenly became busy.  She couldn’t tell if he was genuinely swamped with mafia-related paperwork or if he was just trying to avoid the topic again, but it wasn’t the kind of thing she was going to openly accuse him of—in part because he was her boss, and in part because of how he might react.

“When?” she asked, already anticipating an answer as she rose from her chair and went back inside to find a pair of shoes and her keys.

Xanxus paused only a moment.  “Now.  Before I change my mind.”

He had only hung up seconds before she was out the door again.

*

Soko had barely sat down when Xanxus said, “Talk to me the way you used to.” 

“Pardon?” she asked slowly, wondering if it was the wrong thing to say when he got out of his chair but didn’t move, just standing there and scowling down at the collection of papers on his desk.

“Do you remember the time you came back from the hit on Marocco, and you were so angry at me that we ended up scaring Vongola out of his own meeting room?” he asked, sounding much calmer than she expected.  Almost like he was actually reminiscing.

“Vaguely,” she said.

“Or the time you came to find me at Brindisi and called me an unreasonable asshole?  You’d get pissed at me whenever I called you trash back then.”

She wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but she hoped he wasn’t still mad about any of it.  “Yes, I remember that.”

“Talk to me like that again.”

Soko paused as she tried to process what he’d said.  “Why?” she asked, thinking it was the safest question.

“I’m not giving you permission to be a smartass for no reason,” he told her, “But it’s impossible to talk to you when you’re like this; rigid and uptight and into all of the rank bullshit.”

Just when she was sure she had him figured out, Soko was starting to second-guess herself.  “But I thought you liked that better.”

“What?”  His eyes narrowed.  “I thought you jumping on the pecking order bandwagon was a little weird.  Don’t tell me you only started being polite because you thought I’d like it?”

“Excuse me,” she shot back, a little offended, “But I’m capable of being polite whenever I want, and it has nothing to do with you.”

“Could have fooled me, trash.”

She was halfway out of her chair, hand twitching at her side for her gun when she realized what she was doing—and more importantly, what _he_ was doing—and she noticed a smirk on his face that she hadn’t seen in a while.

“You know what I mean,” he said, coming around the desk, and she knew what was happening before he was all the way around it, distancing herself with a few steps back towards the door, “That’s what I missed.  The way you’d fight back.”

“Don’t even start,” she said firmly, “I came here to talk, because you said we would, not….”  His words finally sank in.  “You missed that?”

“You heard me fine, I don’t need to say it again.”

He came a few steps closer and she reached for the door handle behind her.  “Boss,” she took a deep breath, “Xanxus.  Please.  You did this last time, too.”

“If you really want to leave, then leave,” he said.  She stared hard at him as he came to a stop within arm’s reach, then at her feet, and back at him again.  She locked the door.

“We’re going to talk,” she insisted, and he hummed in agreement, reaching for the bottom of her shirt.  “Right now.”

“I never said we wouldn’t.”  He didn’t stop undressing her, though, and Soko found herself standing in front of him wearing nothing but her undergarments.  Xanxus suddenly pulled away and she shivered, almost able to feel his eyes wandering down her body.  “Turn around,” he told her, and she did as she was asked, surprised when she felt one of his hands rest gently on the tattoo of the lily in the center of her back.  “What kind of person do you think I am?” he asked, voice much softer than she was used to.

She closed her eyes.  “Someone not so different from me.”

She heard him chuckle quietly behind her.  “Is that an insult?”

Sighing in disappointment at Xanxus’ability to ruin any moment, Soko opened her eyes and turned around.  “Honestly, I think you’re an asshole,” she said, “And you have frequent moments of callousness and tactlessness.  But I’m still here, and I’d still be here even if you weren’t my boss, because I’m a callous, tactless asshole sometimes, too.  Apparently, we’re both okay with that.”

One of his hands came to rest on her cheek, and Soko was almost surprised at the simple but affectionate gesture.  They had been intimate many times and had even curled up beside one another afterwards, dangerously close to cuddling, but subtler things like this were infrequent and almost felt accidental.  The way Xanxus looked into her eyes told her that it was very deliberate.  “I’m not like Chiavarone,” he said quietly, “Romantic dinners and dramatic proposals and all of that courtship ritual bullshit are things I don’t have any interest in.”

“That’s fine,” Soko said, “I think we established earlier that romance isn’t something either of us is all that good at.  And marriage,” she paused to laugh, “I already told you about that, too.”

“Ruined for marriage, I think you said,” Xanxus said with a nod, and leaned in a bit, “If you weren’t before, you definitely are now.”

“I guess I’ll just have to stay here then,” she whispered, and stood on her toes.

*

Half an hour later, Soko was still lingering in Xanxus’ office, partly because she didn’t want to leave yet and partly because he hadn’t kicked her out yet, when she suddenly remembered something he’d said.  “You said something about dramatic proposals when you mentioned Don Chiavarone earlier,” she said, “Was that just listing hypothetical examples, or were you serious?”

Xanxus raised a brow.  “Does it matter?”

“I guess not.”  She had dragged her chair over to the desk, close enough to converse with him without feeling like she was miles away but not so close that he could complain about being crowded.  “Well, actually, it kind of does.”

“I thought you were going to keep your distance from her, for her sake as well as yours.”

“I know,” Soko sighed, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about how she’s doing, or whether or not she decided to marry into a mafia family.”

Xanxus suddenly stopped working on his paperwork, glancing at his watch, and stood form his desk.  “Family meeting,” he explained, and Soko nodded glumly.  He rolled his eyes.  “You look pathetic.  I’m not going to leave you alone in my office, I doubt I’ll ever trust you enough for that.”

“But I hardly have a rank anymore,” she said, “Am I even allowed at meetings?”

He let out a sound that was almost like a laugh.  “I don’t think Vongola knows that people who actually want to go to meetings still exist.”

She tried to hide her eagerness as she followed him to his car.  They were both silent on the drive over, but it wasn’t the tense, uncomfortable silence that she’d felt before.  It was peaceful, the kind of silence she’d had with Toko a few times, as though she was sharing a moment with someone who she knew well enough that words were unnecessary. 

As he parked, he glanced over at her briefly.  “You might want to pull up the collar of your shirt,” he told her shortly, and she stared at him in confusion before she suddenly realized what he meant, looking at herself in the car mirror with a frown.  There was a very obvious red mark on her neck that she couldn’t possibly cover with shirt.  Grateful to have remembered it that morning, she pulled the knitted scarf Toko had made her from her purse and wrapped it around her neck.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” she hissed, “I walked through all of headquarters like this.  And I know everyone knows, they’ve all been pretty straightforward about it, but that doesn’t make it any less embarrassing when you do things like this—!”

“Because I wanted them all to see it,” he said, stepping out of the car. 

Soko stared at him as they walked into the Vongola headquarters.  “Xanxus, you’re their boss.  I don’t think any of them would make a move on me even if they were interested.”

“That’s not the point.” 

She frowned.  “So what is the point?  You just like leaving marks on me and having other people see them?  You get a thrill out of it or something?”

“Something like that.” 

Soko’s face flushed and she focused on the hallway as they got closer to the meeting room.  “I was hoping for a less straightforward answer.”

“You know I don’t like being indirect.”

Xanxus was not the type to hold doors, and if Soko hadn’t been paying attention, it might have swung back and hit her in the face.  For some reason, it made her smile inwardly, if only because she knew that sometime she’d have to get to the door first and pretend to hold it for him just long enough to let it hit him. 

He would probably catch it, and then pay her back for it later when she wasn’t on her guard.  For some reason, she interpreted this as affection, and sort of looked forward to it as an aspect of their relationship.

She really needed to start spending more time with Don Vongola and his guardians.  The Varia were starting to rub off on her.

The meeting room was as sparsely populated as usual, with only Don Vongola at the head with Reborn standing by the windows, the two of them making small talk, and she took a seat beside Xanxus.  The door opened behind her a few moments later but she didn’t turn to look, preoccupied with her own thoughts until someone tapped on her shoulder.

“Excuse me, _signora_ , that scarf is beautiful!  Where did you get it?” she heard someone ask, and turned, glancing up at Toko’s face.

She blinked and had to take a moment to breathe and remember if she had actually gotten out of bed this morning or if she was still dreaming.  “Toko?” she whispered.  The other woman’s smile widened and Soko got to her feet to embrace her, overcome with emotion.  “I should be telling you that you shouldn’t be here, or that it’s dangerous, or….”  She trailed off, noticing as she let go only to take Toko’s hands into her own that she was wearing a diamond ring on her right hand.  Don Chiavarone stood behind her, smiling slightly, a ring on his hand, as well.  “Oh, I’m too late to warn you against that, though.”

Toko laughed.  “Only by a few days.  I wanted to tell you in person.”

“Tell me why, then.”  Soko held her gaze.  “I won’t tell you how to live your life or anything, because I trust you a lot more than I trust myself when it comes to that sort of thing.  But what made you decide that this is what you wanted?”

“I’m not meant to be a hit man,” her friend said, “Even if I could see that.  But you know I’ve always been interested in other things, like economics and the delicate balance of power in the underworld, and….”

“Politics,” Soko interrupted, letting go of her hands with a sigh, “Things I’m not smart enough to wrap my head around, or care about.”

“Now, don’t say that.  You’re Varia now.  You get to simultaneously be the brains and the brawn.”

“Sure,” she said, “But I’ll forever leave the politics to the higher ups.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Toko said teasingly, and went to sit down across the table beside Don Chiavarone.

“It’s good to see everyone again,” Don Vongola said, looking genuinely pleased as his gaze passed them, “Things have been quiet lately, but we have to remember to stay on our toes, and appreciate what we have.”  Toko glanced to Don Chiavarone, who looked back at her with a smile.  Soko couldn’t help but smile herself, and glanced at Xanxus, who only rolled his eyes. 

As Don Vongola began discussing the political climate and the family’s position, Soko’s smile widened as she realized how far she’d come since the first time she sat at this table, from a reclusive, antisocial assassin to one who could at least give someone the time of day if it was absolutely necessary.  She wouldn’t go as far as saying that she had changed in some huge, fundamental way, but she was glad she had met Toko, glad she had come to Italy, and was definitely glad she had joined the Vongola and later the Varia.

Xanxus’ arm found its way around her waist, and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, trying to pretend she was paying attention.  He didn’t look back at her, but as his thumb stroked her side, he looked almost relaxed, his gaze softer than usual and his touch gentle.

_Thank you for being here,_ she wanted to interpret the meaning of the gestures as, _Thank you for staying._ She doubted she would ever hear the words out loud, but this was enough.

From a yakuza boss’ daughter to a gun for hire to a mafia assassin, Soko had always known that her life would be in the underworld.  She didn’t know exactly what path Toko had taken to get to where she was, but she knew her transition had come from a variety of things—not wanting to miss opportunities she might not have later being chief among them.  Soko didn’t think it was impossible for her to change if she decided one day that she really, really wanted to, but she also knew that would never happen.

 When the meeting drew to a close, she said goodbye to Toko after making plans for coffee together sometime, and then turned to Xanxus.

“Yuri,” he said suddenly, “Ready to go?”  Though the name surprised her, she didn’t feel the same terror she’d felt when she’d heard it before, no urge to run and hide or bury her past even further.

When Xanxus said it, she thought that maybe she felt the way people were supposed to when their names were called.  Recognized, acknowledged.  Loved.

“Don’t just stare at me,” he said, a little quieter, “If you hate the name that much, tell me.”

“I don’t hate it,” she said immediately, “Really, I don’t.  I never did.” 

She thought, as she climbed in the passenger seat of a car that belonged to her boss, one of the best assassins in Italy, and the man she now knew she loved, that she was perfectly happy the way she was.

Soko was ruined for marriage, and she didn’t even care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Soko definitely went through a lot, but there's another side to this story that I might have to get around to writing some time....  
> Hope you enjoyed this one!


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